


The Further Adventures of Jane and Sherlock

by penrosewriter



Series: The Adventures of Janelock Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Backstory, Crushes, Cute, Cute Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female John Watson, Femlock, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Jane - Freeform, Jealous Sherlock, Jealousy, Love, Multi, Original Character(s), Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Pining Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Relationship(s), Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Violence, girl!john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 59,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosewriter/pseuds/penrosewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filler stories for the series "The Adventures of Janelock Holmes". This is where I write most of the fluff, extras, and backstories.<br/>WARNING: Sometimes this fluff could give you diabetes. So be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Settling In

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I will briefly explain. These are the filler stories I write for my series. Because the cases are so compactly written, it's hard to write everything that I want to. Some of these stories will be tied in with a case, some will not. What I hope this story accomplishes is to delve in further to the lives of Jane and Sherlock. I'm also pretty open to any suggestions for this! So if you guys want me to write something, send me a message and I will try and get it written.

"Sherlock, a little help!" Jane called from the bottom of the stairs.

Putting down his experiment, he looked down to see Jane struggling with three boxes. Trotting down the stairs, Sherlock picked up two of the three, leaving her the lightest.

"I only meant you getting the door for me." Jane said, heaving up the box. 

"So this is it then?" Sherlock asked her. 

"Hm? Uh, yeah, this is everything that I call mine."

"It's not much." Sherlock noted, arching an eyebrow. 

_Wow, he must be a detective._ Jane thought dryly.

"Obviously. I got back from military service not too long ago anything. What else do you think I'd own?"

"Furniture, dishes, bedding." 

"I don't have the first two, but I've got this." Jane claimed proudly at the box she lifted up the stairs. 

"And it is?" Sherlock questioned curiously, half-heartedly maintaining an air of disinterest.

"One moment, I need to open it." Jane looked around for scissors. 

Rolling his eyes, he pulled the dagger that was embedded into the mantle and cut open the tape. 

"Scissors. Ever heard of that?" Jane asked, opening up the old box before lifting up a duvet. 

Obviously it had belonged to someone else due to the age and the wear of the blanket. It did hold value due to the quality of the fabric the intricate detailing, and the fact it was from the early 19th century. Jane never would have selected the colour lavender, yet she still kept it. Most likely an heirloom that holds sentimental value and is from a family member or friend. If it did not hold sentiment to her, then she would have sold it. 

"A passed down duvet." 

"Yeah. Guess who gave it to me."

"A relative judging by your fondness of the blanket." 

"Grandmum. Yeah, she gave it to me in her will. Died when I was seven." Jane remarked, smiling fondly at the blanket.

"How sentimental."

"Alright then, guess what's in the other two if you're so clever."

"Easy. The first one are your clothes and the second are...Knick knacks and miscellaneous items." 

"Correct." 

"...The miscellaneous items indicate you argued with your mother before you left." 

"Sorry, what?" Jane asked, defences raising.

"The boxes. They are all small, meaning you do not own many things. Since you have been home from service for two months now, and because of how independent you are, you were making plans to move away, and you would have wanted things like dishes, furniture and other such necessities. You should own more than this. Most likely you had an argument about what furniture you could take here. Your mother detained several pieces of furniture from you out of spite, but is also angry you took the duvet, as there's most likely resentment that you possess it due to the value of the item. The miscellaneous items are most likely scrap books, photos, and mementos, it is there way of reminding you to contact them, meaning you do not phone home often." 

After a lengthy silence, Jane spoke up. 

"Well...you're right. I don't get on well with most of my family due to some old history. Mum didn't let me take my bed, my dresser, anything. She said it was really hers and I had no business taking it. So, I came with just this." 

“Ah.”

"Alright, I'm going to go ahead and start moving in some stuff. Did you get that experiment out of my room?"

"Mostly."

"I'll take that hopefully as a yes." Jane chuckled, heaving up two boxes up the stairs. 

She really was tiny. She could barely see past one box let alone two. While she was 5’2, he was 6’0. It really was quite amusing, and the difference could prove useful to him. Going back downstairs, she looked at all the boxes surrounding them. 

"You still haven't unpacked yet? C'mon then, let's get this sorted." She smirked, taking the dagger to saw open a box.

An hour later, they were still working, this time the radio on, (Much to Jane's insistence) and well over halfway done. 

"Sherlock, your book on anatomy?"

"Over on the third bookshelf." Sherlock instructed, sorting the silverware. 

Jane smirked to herself. He really could care less about whether or not an acid experiment could go in the shower or a cupboard, but he was rather meticulous about where his books went. A man after her own heart on that. 

“So all this stuff, it’s yours?” Jane questioned, looking around the flat. 

“Yes. I’ve acquired all of these through the years.” Sherlock said proudly.

Getting up, Jane walked towards the bookshelves.

“You’ve got books in German. Do you speak it?” She simply stated, pulling out a copy of _Demian_. 

“Obviously, if I have German books.” Sherlock said dryly. 

At home, she had a brilliant collection. All the classics, science, medicine books. But, even those belonged to the house and she couldn't take them. Perhaps she could get Clara to sneak out her particular favourite, _A Tale of Two Cities_. When she was young, she would read it over and over again, inspired by the courage and heroism of the protagonists.

“I used to have a lot of books to.” Jane said softly, more to herself. 

“Where are they?” Running her finger down the binding of a book, she smiled sadly. 

“Doesn’t really matter. Would you…would you mind if I borrowed a book sometimes?”

“No. As long as I may use your laptop from time to time.

” “We’ll see about that one.” Hearing a certain song, Jane cringed. 

"Sherlock, skip this song will you?? This is the one song that I cannot stand!" 

"The Bohemian Rhapsody?" Sherlock's eyebrows raised in amusement. 

"Yeah. Dunno why, but this song always got on my nerves. Please change it already." 

"On the contrary, I quite like this song." 

"I really can't see you liking this. What kind of music do you listen to anyhow?" Jane sincerely could not imagine Sherlock to be the type to listen to the radio as he drove. (If he knew how to, she did wonder if he even had a license) 

“Instruments.”

“Oh, Mozart and Bach?” 

“Yes. It helps me think.” Nodding, she grimaced at the song. 

“It’s torture.” Jane muttered disdainfully.

“It’s music.” By the end of the day, they had everything set up. 

“Well, this all looks very nice.” Jane commented proudly, sitting on the burgundy chair. 

Sitting on the black leather one opposite her, Sherlock shrugged. 

“It looks very much the same.” He sniffed, opening the newspaper. 

“Minus the fact that you could barely see the floor.” Pulling out her laptop, she began typing. 

After fifteen minutes of enduring silence, Sherlock peeked at her from over the paper. 

“What are you typing?”

“I’m writing my blog. Therapist’s orders.”

“You fired her.” 

“Yeah, but she gave me some good advice for this.”

“What is it?”

“I’m writing about you.” 

 “Why?” 

“Because you’re a part of my life now, and I’m writing about my life.” 

A part of her life.

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Writing helps me relax, like how music and your mind palace helps you.” Hearing a knock at the door, Jane turned to hear Mrs. Hudson.

“Yoo-hoo! I know you two haven’t been out shoppin’, so come down to my flat, I’ve got a nice dinner prepared.”

“Oh, that’s really kind.” Jane smiled, putting her laptop down and went to the door before turning. 

“Sherlock, you eating?”

“Hm. I ate yesterday.”

“Well you need to eat again.”

“No.”

“Sherlock.” She said warningly.

“I don’t think it’s necessary.” 

“Well I do.” When he made no effort to move, Jane sighed and sat opposite him. 

“Let’s make a deal. When you’re not on a case, at least eat twice a day. And when you’re on a case, I won’t push you to eat. Okay?” 

“Fine.” Standing up, Sherlock went down the stairs.

It seemed they really did have a new tenant. 


	2. Violin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane discovers a new talent, and Sherlock discovers a new piece of music

_"Tell my parents I'm sorry Jane, I'm so sorry...." Johanna rasped. "No....no I'm the one who is sorry Jo....I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry...." Jane whispered, a sob rising in her chest. A gunshot, a scream, dust choking her lungs as she lay under a blazing sun, waiting for her inevitable death. Suddenly, she was at the college, seeing Sherlock lift the pill to his mouth, alarm and concern for him. Raising her gun, she shot, only she missed. Into Sherlock’s head the bullet went. And her gun couldn’t stop firing as the bullet was shot again and again and-_

“NO!!” Jane shouted, sitting up in bed, breath coming rapidly.

For a moment, her disoriented eyes could barely see. Rubbing the tears from her nightmare away, she brushed her dishevelled hair away from her face. Giving a shuddering sigh, she sank back down, willing herself to take deep, even breaths. And that is when she heard it. Arcane, poignant music from a violin sifted through the vents and the sound flouted softly to her room.

Frowning in confusion, she looked at her phone to realize it was only three in the morning. Pulling on her robe and smoothing out her hair slightly, she slightly padded down the creaky steps. Silently looking into the main area, she saw Sherlock, playing a violin. His back turned to her, she watched him play. Swinging slightly, he played, pausing momentarily to adjust his blue robe. Something in his music made her sad however. People often say that music expresses your true nature. And his was sadness. His was rejection, aspiration, pain, sadness…and loneliness. So much loneliness. He never acted lonely. But Jane knew better. He longed for a companion, he longed for someone. It made her ill to think of how desolate and lonesome Sherlock truly was. When the song ended, Jane smiled and slowly applauded, making him turn around.

“Didn’t know you played the violin that well.”

“Hm. There’s a lot you don’t know.” Sherlock set his violin down and grabbed a nicotine patch from the mantel.

“It’s three in the morning, what are you doing up?” Jane asked, curling up on her armchair.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Nodding Jane sighed.

“I know that feeling.”

A comfortable silence filled the room as Sherlock stared out the window and Jane sleepily sat on her chair.

“That music you played. What is it called?” Jane enquired curiously.

“It doesn’t have a name.” Sherlock murmured quietly.

“It doesn’t? How come?”

“Because I just created the song.”

“You are a composer?” Jane breathed, smiling.

“Well…yes.”

“That’s amazing Sherlock! How come you never said anything?”

“Does it need saying?” Sherlock countered, placing the violin away in its case.

“It doesn’t. But, I would like you to play it again.”

“Would you?” His forehead furrowed as he looked at Jane.

“Yeah, I would. You’re a good violinist.” Jane got up and walked to Sherlock’s shelf and pulled off a book.

“Are you staying up?” At the question, Jane gave him an amused smile.

“I’m sitting here reading. I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked then mentally kicked himself.

Her nightmares. Whenever he was exhausted, he never could seem to sleep himself. He couldn’t even think when he was exhausted. One thing the two had in common was nightmares. His of days long foregone, and hers of recent horrors which were foreign to himself.

“Doesn’t matter.” She muttered, opening the book.

Picking up a piece of paper, Sherlock began scrawling down the notes to the song as he tweaked and pulled at the occasional maxima or semibreve here and there. At last, the whole song was written.

“Jane, I have it written-Jane?” Looking over at the arm chair, he noticed at some point of the composing process she had fallen asleep.

Smiling softly at her, he pulled the flannel blanket off of her chair and draped it over her, causing her to turn on her side and murmur. Taking her book, he marked where she was and left it on the coffee table. Unlatching his violin, Sherlock resumed his playing, focusing on the notes. He knew she had been having nightmares. But never to the point where she’d wake up screaming, had which she done. The violin had always helped soothe his raging thoughts and his mind, so why not hers? And here she was, asleep, and seemingly peaceful.

When he was young, that was when he learned how to play the violin. His grandfather gave it to him as a gift, to help further his “creative side”. At first, he was perturbed that his music sounded awful. It took six months to be able to whittle out “Yankee Doodle” and now, he could play complicated pieces, and make his own. But what would he call this one?

Sitting down, he thought. The music he played, made him think of what the sky looked like after a storm, calm after tranquillity. In a way, it made him think of Jane. Picking up a pen, he scrawled “Tranquillitas Mea” onto the paper. It was the perfect title. Feeling satisfied, he placed the violin in his case, and he looked at Jane one last time before going to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note-“Tranquillitas Mea” translates to "My calm".


	3. First Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane has come to realise she is sharing a flat with a five year old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this short was fun to write hehe. Sherlock sometimes acts like he's two, and sometimes Mycroft acts like he's mother.

"Sherlock, dunno if you understand this concept, but work means I go to work, and I don't stay and help you with cases constantly. I work three days a week, we've been over this!" 

When Sherlock did not look up from his microscope (Meaning he was choosing to be angry with her) Jane heaved an aggravated sigh.

"Fine. Bye, I'll be back at six-thirty." 

Going out, Jane shut the door with a slam. She knew it was petty, but well, so was he. After a long day of crying kids, paperwork, unnecessary clinic visits, and cankerous men, Jane was more than ready to return home. 

Closing up her office, Jane heard her co-worker, Sarah, laughing.

"What?" Jane asked, as Sarah entered, clutching her sides. 

"Looks like you've gotten the boot!"

"Sorry, what?"

"Have you checked your blog Jane?" Sarah smirked, walking out. 

He didn't. Did he do something to her blog? Going to her blog, Jane began to read in horror.

 _Hello!!!!!! My name is Jane Watson and I am a massive pain in the arse!!! Why just this week alone, I have destroyed five of Sherlock's delicate and important experiments!!! In case you didn't know, he is my brilliant and wonderful flat mate and I really am not sure how he manages to put up with me!!!! I waste all of my time ogling after stupid men, instead of doing actual productive things. For instance, I thought it would be a wonderful thought to attend my dull work to deal with my pathetic patients instead of accompanying Sherlock on a time crucial case!! During my absence, the criminal escaped. Had I been there, things would have A) could have been prevented. B) Would have been slightly less unpleasant. So, from this point forward, I, Doctor Jane Watson, am hereby banned from the flat until further notice. Goodbye._

Clicking off her computer, Jane could barely control her rage, chest heaving.

"HAVE A GOOD DAY SARAH." Storming out of the building, Jane hailed a cab, muttering to herself the whole time.

Slamming open the door to the complex, Jane stomped up the stairs and jerked on the handle to the flat. It wouldn't budge.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW!" 

Silence. Banging on the door again, Jane once more yelled at him:

"I have a job, I have a life other than solving your cases! This is childish!!!" 

When she heard nothing again, she went down the stairs. 

And then, he did it. Sherlock was playing "The Bohemian Rhapsody" on his damned violin. 

“You know what? You are a twit! You better pray that door can stay locked, because when I get in there, you won’t be able to play that violin for a good six weeks!!” Jane shouted as loud as her lungs would allow her. 

Going outside, Jane tried the fire escape but found it to, was locked shut. 

"Oh, Jane dear, I'm so sorry. Sherlock told me to tell you, he has barricaded the door, and he shall not be allowing you in for the time being. Of course, you can stay with me for a bit yeah?" 

"I. Don't. Believe. This." She gritted her teeth as he brought his violin to ear splitting levels.

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear. You want some food while we wait his mood out?" 

Two hours later, Sherlock was still sawing away at the violin.

"Honestly. How long can he keep it up?" Jane asked, frowning at the violin as it wailed the Bohemian Rhapsody for the 23 (24th?) time.

"I honestly don't know dear. More tea?" 

"Why not? Any whiskey in that tea by chance?" She grumbled, her head pounding.

"What, dear?"  
"Oh, nothing."

"They all bloody well told me. He is hard to deal with, must be harder to live with....no wonder he's gone through five flatmates." 

Hearing a knock on the door, she opened it to find Mycroft standing there. 

"And what do you want?" She snapped, and cringed as the violin cried out again.

"I've heard there's been some trouble doctor." 

"And how did you hear that?" Jane asked, her eyes narrowing as Mycroft entered.

"I have my ways. I'M HERE DOCTOR, TO OFFER YOU A DEAL." Mycroft raised his voice at this part, and the violin quieted. 

"Yeah?" 

"Until my brother is on reasonable terms, I think that you'd find it more suitable to stay at my home until you can renter 221B." 

The violin stopped. Catching on to what Mycroft was playing at, Jane smirked. 

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly have anywhere else to go. Might as well." 

_Click._

Hearing Sherlock unlock the flat, Jane bit back a laugh. Looking over at Mycroft, Jane bit back a smile. While she didn’t particularly like or trust this man, you could definitely tell they were both siblings. 

"Real quick, I'd better check and see if Sherlock's changed his mind." She announced, jogging up the stairs. 

“Do inform me next time if Sherlock causes you…problems.” 

“Will do.” Jane promised, before opening the door. 

Might as well help him salvage the little dignity he had left right now.

  



	4. Dinner for Two and a Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries his hand at cooking. True, he's never done it, but it's probably not that tough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year you guys!!!! You guys are all awesome!!!

"Okay, we can't keep doing this." Sherlock heard Jane call as she went down the staircase in work attire.  
"Sorry?" He asked, looking up from her laptop.  
"Dinner. Every time Mrs. Hudson's not here, we always end up ordering Chinese take out."  
"Change to Angelo's then?" Giving an aggravated sigh, Jane glared at Sherlock.  
"What I'm saying is, we need to actually cook instead of mooching off Mrs. Hudson, Chinese, or Angelo!"  
"Well, you can cook, can't you Jane?"  
"Yeah, but I haven't really cooked since Uni, and I don't really have time." Jane huffed.  
"Hm."  
"Can you cook?" Jane asked, causing Sherlock's head to snap up.  
"Of course I can." He snapped.  
"Ok, then do something about dinner. I mean it! I'm going to work then." When the door closed, Sherlock frowned. True, he had never actually cooked per se, but how hard could it be? All he had to do was find a recipe and cook it.  
Perhaps attempting to make a "Le Bernardin" soup was rather ambitious for his first time, but he could very well try. It was five, and Jane always arrived back home at six-twenty seven. That would be plenty of time to cook.  
Looking at the frozen fish, Sherlock tilted his head slightly when his scalpel was having difficulties piercing the scales.  
Throwing the fish in the microwave, he set it for a few minutes, and then turned to the carrots, garlic, onions (with the skin still on), and the parsley, and threw it into the broth.   
"Tomato paste..." He'd have to go to the store to get that, which he would not do.  
Finding a tomato, he mashed it into a lovely pulp and threw it into the mixture...that smelled like it was burning.  
Cursing, he stirred the vegetables, and poured in milk. The soup was supposed to look creamy according to the recipe, right? Milk should do the trick.   
"Caramelized..."   
What would he do about that? He didn't have any caramel.  
Pulling out another pot, he poured brown sugar, honey, water in and set it on high. Makeshift caramel for now.  
And for bread? The major components of bread was created with flour, water, and baking soda.  
Mixing the three together, Sherlock set the oven on and plopped the bread in.   
Hearing the microwave beep, he yanked it open to find a shrivelled fish.  
It was cooked, he decided, and threw it into the pot after dicing it, bones, guts, and all.  
Smelling something burning, he realized his caramel was burning to the pot.  
Putting hot water over it, he cringed when it instead of coming of the pot, hardened.  
Scooping out what parts looked edible, Sherlock carefully added it to the mixture and picked up the recipe book.  
"Stir..." Oh, he didn't know he had to stir.  
Skimming the surface of the soup, Sherlock stirred once and then set to put more fish into the microwave.  
When the next batch of fish was out of the microwave and in the pot, Sherlock smelled something burning.   
Opening the oven, Sherlock coughed as he found (to his horror) that not only the bread was charcoal, but the oven was now on fire.   
Grabbing a towel, he put out the flames and fished out the burning bread.  
Well...it could be edible...maybe the centre was cooked, and it was just the outside was burned.  
Hearing the microwave make an odd noise, he opened it to find one of the fish had unfortunately exploded. Oops.   
Turning back to the bread, he looked for a cutting board.  
He had been doing a dissection on one of the hands that had been donated to Bart's for scientific research, but, he could go back to that later. Plunking the hand off the cutting board, he took one of his scalpels and sawed open the charcoal bread to find the inside still raw.  
"Hey, I'm ho-...there's a...hand on the floor." Jane stopped when she looked at the sight.  
The oven was smoking, everything smelled like a fish market, the microwave had steam and smoke rising out of it, and a hand on the table.  
"Ah. Jane...you are home early."   
He had been meaning to clean up before she got home.  
"Yes. Yes I am."   
Walking over to the pot, Jane grimaced. She could see a fish head floating, burned vegetables, and boiling milk and water, and the sharp smell of seasoning, onions, and fish.  
"If I may...what is this supposed to be?" Jane asked, her stomach churning.  
"Uh...soup. Obviously."   
Plugging her nose subtly, Jane tried not to gag.  
"It is, huh. Eh, Sherlock, did you by any chance use instructions? Did you even stir?"   
"Of course." Sherlock sharply responded, stiffening.   
Feeling a pang of guilt, Jane looked at him. It was quite obvious he tried really hard to make a good dinner. Knowing him, he probably planned it all day. She would be such an arse to not eat it.  
"Alright, then you clear some space at the table, and I'll get some bowls and spoons." Forcing a smile, Jane inwardly cringed when she heard the soup give a glop sound.  
Dishing herself a small portion, Jane watched a fish bone and what looked like fish guts float at the surface.  
"Wow it looks..." Jane slowly stopped talking as she watched a fishes eyeball go up to the surface.  
"...delicious." She finished weakly.   
Getting the safest looking spoonful, Jane held her breath as she brought up the spoon.  
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock snatched the spoon from her and dumped out the contents of the bowl.  
"What...what's wrong?" Jane questioned, almost laughing from relief.  
Glaring at her as if she was an idiot, Jane heaved a resigned sigh.  
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings Sherlock."  
"Oh please." He snorted.  
"But you looked so proud of yourself, and I'd have to be a right pain, not to choke it down!"  
"...So Chinese takeout then."  
"Right. The usual. And from now on, leave the cooking to either me or Mrs. Hudson, okay?"  
"...Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...this may or may not be based off actual events...


	5. Broadway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jane should consider Broadway as their career

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, confession time! This is not completely original. My sister reads these, and suggested I do a story based on something we were watching on the television. So, enjoy this ridiculous piece

“I saw him on-ce! Then he-e was gone!!!”

Looking over at Sherlock, Jane was very concerned.

“You alright mate?”

“In my li-fe I am no longer a child and I yearn for the truth that you kn-ow!” Sherlock continued singing, his tone off pitch, and much too high for his baritone voice.

“Seriously, you okay?” Jane asked, watching him continue singing _A Heart Full of Love_

 “Quite so Jane. Sing with me.”

“What? N-no!” Jane furiously shook her head as he walked over to her.

“No, seriously! I sound like a dying cat!”

"Come Jane. What songs do you know?”

“Um...Twinkle, twinkle little star? Seriously, I am extremely concerned right now. Are you alright?”

“Never been better. Let’s sing.”

“That’s it. You’ve gone mad!”

Taking a notepad, Sherlock scrawled on a notepad as he continued his off key singing. Taking it, Jane read:

_Mycroft has bugged the flat. I am merely making him regret this unfortunate decision._

Biting back a laugh, Jane wrote back:

_Ok, I’m in. You’ll have to teach me songs though._

Nodding, Sherlock snapped shut the notebook. Four solid hours later, Sherlock and Jane were still sawing away:

“Tradition! Tradition! Tradi-tion!”

Singing “Tradition” for the fifth time, Jane read the lyrics as she sang, while Sherlock sawed an off key tune to it on his violin.

“Lovely tunes, the both of you! But…aren’t you getting a bit tired of singing?”

Mrs. Hudson finally went upstairs, obviously nursing a headache from the ruckus.

“Hm, I suppose we can stop for the time being. Mrs. Hudson, Jane and I shall go to Angelo’s, and then continue our singing.” Sherlock told Mrs. Hudson, shrugging on his black coat and navy scarf before heading out the door.

Arriving at Angelo’s, Sherlock and Jane sat at their usual seats, ordered, then sat in silence. Finally, Jane put her hand on her head and started from chuckling, to hysterical laughter.

“Jane, it’s not terribly humorous.” Sherlock remarked, before adding:

“Maybe a little.”

Smiling, Sherlock wondered how long it would take to get Mycroft to take down the bugs as Jane recovered from laughing.

“Poor Mrs. Hudson though…we’re going to have to do something to make up for it.” Jane snorted, wiping a tear from her eye.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Really though, how do you know so many musicals?” Jane asked, sipping her water.

Smile fading, Sherlock looked out the window.

“Sherlock?” Jane asked, worried at the sudden behaviour change.

“…Mycroft and I used to enjoy them.”

If Sherlock did not appear so serious, Jane might have giggled at this. She could not even imagine Mycroft and Sherlock remotely enjoying Broadway, or musicals. The notion in itself seemed ridiculous. 

“Oh. How long ago?”

“A long time ago.” Sherlock sighed as a waiter set down their food.

“Did…anything happen?”

Jane frowned when she noticed Sherlock’s sudden mood swing.

“Your voice sounds scratchy.” Sherlock pointed out to her.

“Does it? Bet your voice is going to go out pretty soon.”

“Not until we get those bugs out of our flat.”

“Why don’t you just find the bugs and get rid of them?”

“Mycroft would simply replace them. We must give him a reason not to want to eavesdrop.”

“True. And what better way than to give him the migraine of a lifetime?” Jane added dryly.

After they finished eating, Sherlock and Jane headed back to flat. Immediately, he searched for the bugs in the original hiding place and grinned when they were no longer there. Writing, Sherlock then turned the notebook to face Jane.

_Search for bugs_.

After searching the entire flat for half an hour, they still found none.

“We won.” Sherlock grinned.

“Good! That was a clever idea Sherlock! Good job!”

Blinking rapidly as if surprised, Sherlock looked over at Jane.

“Ah-yes…”

Flicking on the kettle, Jane leaned against the counter.

“Dunno if I’ll be able to speak for a few days though!” She rasped, rubbing her throat gingerly.

“But my gosh, this is exactly what I was saying about Mycroft belonging in 1984!”

“Indeed.”

“Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, Mycroft’s watching you…” Trailing off in an ominous whisper, Jane smiled at Sherlock, making him break off into another bout of laughter.

“You forget, every cake you make…”

“…Or every face you break…” Jane chimed in, laughing.

“…Every mistake you make…”

Nodding to his addition, Jane poured her and himself a mug of tea, and put in tea to steep.

“Sounds about right.” She agreed, sliding him his earl grey in a striped mug.

“Honestly though, your brother keeping tabs on you that way! No wonder the two of you have your issues! I dunno what I’d do if Mum did something like that!”

“Most likely, be the same as I.”

“Most likely.” Jane coincided, sipping her tea.

“These past four hours....were ridiculous.”

“It was.” Sherlock agreed, tiredness from the day beginning to set in.

“And we didn’t have a case all day either. Tell me, how long have you gone without a case?”

“Two months.”

“What? Why?”

“Got both my arms broken once, I could barely even leave the flat due to the injury.”

“Yike.” Jane cringed.

After talking this way another four hours, Jane looked over at the clock.

“Blimey! I need to get to bed, I have work.”

Getting up, Jane set her mug in the sink and stretched.

“Sherlock?” Turning at his bedroom door, he looked at her.

"I...have not really laughed that much since...since the Military I suppose. Truly, I had a fantastic time with you today."

Taken slightly aback at her, Sherlock looked down at the floor.

"Ah."

"Yes...well, good night Sherlock." 

 Jane headed to her own room, leaving Sherlock to himself and his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you Broadway fans, how many songs in this did you recognise??


	6. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane acts out, causing their first fight.

They had been after this man for nearly four days now. He was a murderer, of three innocent children. That thought alone made Jane’s stomach churn. In a ludicrous turn of events, he had stolen a jet ski, and had been making a run for it…that is, until he crashed it in a sand bay. On the patrol boat, Jane quickly spotted the man, doing the dead man’s float.

“Move in closer!!”

“We can’t! Any closer, and the boat will hit the bay!” A patrol guard shouted back.

“He’s hurt!!” Jane cried, kicking off her shoes and socks.

“What do you think you are doing?” Sherlock asked, grabbing her arm.

“What does it look like, I’m saving him.”

Pulling off her jacket, she ignored Sherlock’s glare.

“He’s a killer.”

“And he is also a human being. I can’t just sit there and do nothing.”

Jumping into the water, Jane gasped when the icy waters made contact with her skin. Swimming up to the killer, Jane took his pulse. And that was when he struck.

Grabbing her by the ponytail, he yanked her underwater, not allowing her to come up for air. Panicking, she desperately clawed for something, anything that could let her breathe. Coming up for air, she took a deep breath before he began holding her underwater by her shoulders. And then, her world faded to black.

As this was happening, Sherlock flung off his shoes and shirt, and plunged into the water after her. Swimming as fast as his arms could take him, Sherlock grabbed the man and kicked him away. Taking Jane’s arm, he pulled her back up to the surface.

“Jane, can you hear me?”

Her body limp, and her lips blue, Sherlock suddenly realized she wasn’t breathing. Taking her over his shoulder, Sherlock did his best to swim back to the patrol boat.

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” Sherlock yelled, flopping her on the ground.

Putting his hands on her diaphragm, he tried to get her to choke up water. When nothing happened for a minute, Sherlock pinched her nose shut and only hesitated briefly before covering her mouth with his, breathing through his nose, and transferring the air to her.

_Breathe, Jane, all you have to do is breathe._

If she didn’t make it, he’d never see her again. No more of that nattering she did when she worried over him (not that he’d ever admit he liked it), never again a smile, and a laugh. No more of her. He was at two minutes now, one more and brain damage would set in.

“Breathe…” He whispered aloud, waiting.

And finally, she let out a shuddering gasp. Quickly turning to her side, she coughed and retched up all of the water, and lay there, shivering.

“She needs warmth! Hurry, she will catch pneumonia!”

Unbuttoning her plaid shirt, he slung it off and did likewise with her trousers. Getting the coat he had taken off, he put it over her after directing her arms through the sleeves. Shivering, Jane wrapped the coat tighter around her, and hugged herself to stay warm, her mind still in shock.

After making sure she had at least two towels on her, Sherlock finally noticed himself. Putting his shirt back on, he turned when he heard Jane cough behind him. Holding out one of her towels, she gave him a sheepish smile.

“Y-you need a t-towel to right?” Jane chattered.

“Keep it.” He said coldly, suddenly livid with her.

What was she thinking, going out to save that killer? Had Jane even thought about her own safety? Didn’t she ever consider the consequences of her actions?

“What..?” Glaring at her, he huffed before stalking away.

Once they were back on land, the murderer was taken into a police car, and Jane was whisked into a cab. Hand under chin, Sherlock stared furiously out the window, while Jane looked awkwardly at everything but Sherlock. Clearing her throat as they approached 221B, she tapped his shoulder, making him tense.

“…Thank you. For what you did. I’d have died if you didn’t get there in time.”

“Hm. Are you grateful indeed?” Sherlock asked doubtfully.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I was saying thanks.”

When he arched his eyebrow, Jane raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your problem?”

“Mine? I think you meant yours.” Sherlock snapped, before stalking into the flat, leaving her to deal with the cab fare.

Stalking upstairs after him, Jane followed him.

“Are you…angry with me? What on earth did I even do??”

Looking into his microscope, Sherlock made a point to ignore her.

“Ignoring me now? You’re being childish Sherlock!”

“Says the idiot who jumped into a river.”

“That’s why you are mad? He was drowning Sherlock, how could I just sit there and let a man die?”

“He was a criminal.”

“Is it so utterly wrong to try and rescue a criminal?”

Before Sherlock could even process it, all of the pent up worry, anger, and fury was released.

“BECAUSE HE TRIED TO DROWN YOU JANE! AND YOU WERE RECKLESS ENOUGH TO GO INTO THE WATER AFTER A MURDERER!”

Now furious to, Jane turned to face Sherlock.

“I thought he was unconscious!! He was doing the dead man’s float!!” Jane protested, clenching her fists.

“Well he was obviously fooling you! How could you have missed the indication he was faking?!”

“Oh, like you knew that?! You didn’t try to stop me, meaning you didn’t know to!”

“Jane…you jumped in after a criminal for all we knew, he could’ve been planning to drown you.” Sherlock growled at her.

“I SAW A DYING MAN, INSTINCTS KICKED IN, I JUMPED!!” Jane shrieked back at him, her cheeks flushing an unhealthy red.

“And that’s another thing, your instincts! You will go merely on your gut! It’s not practical!”

“I don’t always go on my gut and instinct!”

“YES JANE, YOU DO.”

“I DO NOT!!” Erupting into a coughing fit, Jane shivered.

Opening his mouth to fight back, Sherlock stopped and looked at her. Chest heaving, red cheeks, cold, and anger spiked.

“Anything else you want to say? Because I can keep doing this!!”

“Go to bed Jane, you’re sick.”

“I’m not done with you!”

Going up to her in two long strides, he grabbed her wrist so he could check her temperature.

“You have a fever Jane. Bed.”

“Or what?”

“…I feel a sudden inspiration to play the Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Picking up his violin slowly, he almost did a victory jig when her determination wavered.

“Fine. This isn’t over though. I’m getting a shower though, I’m tired of smelling like river water.”

But by the time she got out of the shower, Sherlock was slightly worried. She looked even worse than she was twenty minutes ago.

“I’m going to bed.” She said grumpily.

“Wait a moment, Jane. Lay down on the couch.”

“Why??” Jane half whined as Sherlock made her lay down.

“It’ll be easier to take care of you if you’re here.”

“Who says you’re taking care of me?” Jane scowled, folding her arms over her plaid pyjamas.

“I did. I’m making you soup.”

“Er…I’d rather not have a rerun of your last dinner episode.”

“All you do Jane, is put it in a pot, and stir. I’m not making anything complicated like Le Bernardin.”

“Oh, so that is what it was supposed to be.”

When he noticed a tremor pass through Jane, he looked in the cupboard for an extra comforter and tossed it over to her.

“You’re being suspiciously nice right now.” Jane warily accepted the mug of soup.

“Sleep after you finish this.”

“Yes Mummy.” Jane grumbled before she shimmied under the covers.

She was so stubborn and grouchy when she was sick.

“Yoo-hoo! I heard some shouting a while back, came up to see if you two are alright.”

“We’re fine Mrs. Hudson.”

Feeling Jane’s forehead, Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips.

“That fever isn’t! The poor dear is burning up! Did you give her any medicine?”

Biting his lip, Sherlock sheepishly looked back at Jane guiltily.

“Oh, Sherlock! Just because you don’t take them yourself, doesn’t mean you don’t give sick people medicine!” Mrs. Hudson scolded him, before getting Jane some pills.

“Alright dear, let’s take some medicine.”

“Mrs. Hudson…?” Jane mumbled, sitting up slowly.

“Yes Love?” She asked, giving Jane a cup of water.

“I’m-sorry-sorry to make you and Sherlock do this. Really, I’ll clean the whole flat after I’m better!”

Frowning in her direction, Sherlock’s brow furrowed. Why was she suddenly acting so odd about being ill?

“There’s no need, now goodnight my dear.”

Flumping back down, Jane immediately fell asleep again. Sitting next to her, Sherlock felt confused. Why was she being so…sorry about being ill now? As if hearing Sherlock’s thoughts, Mrs. Hudson gave a sad sigh and smoothed out Jane’s blankets.

“That poor girl. Bet she has never had someone be this worried for her before. Well, I’ll be back later to check on her. You had better take good care of her, young man.” Mrs. Hudson said, going back downstairs.

How could no one not worry about her? This was Jane they were talking about. He did have a lot of suspicions about her though. Her father for instance. On the first case, she mentioned she’d not seen him since her teenage years. It probably went farther than that. Jane’s parents divorced, leaving her with the mother and her brother. Harry was an alcoholic, and most likely always had been.

From all the rubbish people she’d met in her life, it’d be of no surprise if there was no one who did care. Even if he himself was no good, he cared about her all the same. Jerking a little at that sudden thought, he shook his head.

No, caring was not good. Not in the least. He couldn’t…or shouldn’t…care about this woman. Then again, he could not disregard, or forget the complete panic when he thought Jane had drowned. That…desperation that he could still save her. All of the things he had regretted not saying or doing had rushed up in those moments. The things he had taken for granted, suddenly were noticed.

The small smiles she gave, when she pursed her lips so she wouldn’t laugh, the way she made tea, how very simple and kind she was. All of those moments he thought he wouldn’t get back, were right here, right now. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he moved back a little when he heard Jane sigh and slowly wake up again.

“Hi.” She mumbled, before going into a bout of sneezing.

“Here.”

Handing her tissues, Sherlock felt her forehead again as she blew her nose.

“You still have a bad fever.”

“I figured. How long was I asleep?”

Looking over at the clock, Sherlock was surprised when two hours had passed already.

“…Two hours. You should go back to sleep.” Sherlock said, walking to the laptop in the kitchen.

“No, when I’m sick I almost never sleep much…it’s always I sleep for two hours and then stay up for a long time.” Jane yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“I feel awful.” Jane complained when she felt pain stab behind her eyes.

“You look awful as well. Rest, and if you are in need of something, call me.”

Giving him the evil eye, she wiped her nose on her sleeve, and lay back down. After silence for ten minutes, Sherlock heard a thump. Going back into the main area to investigate, he found Jane on the ground after a failed attempt to stand.

“Do you not know the meaning of the phrase ‘rest’? What were you trying to do?” Sherlock asked her, hoisting Jane up.

“I was trying to get water, but the room spun…”

“That’s why you were supposed to call me if you needed something.”

Setting her back on the couch, Sherlock then got her some cold water.

“Why are you doing this…?” Jane traced her glass as she hesitantly asked.

“Because you are sick, and it does no good to have a sick doctor.”

“Well, I should have you know I’m not terribly sick Sherlock, just a-”

Sneezing several times, Jane wiped the snot off of her face.

“…Just a bad cold.” She finished, sniffling.

“Go to sleep.”

Returning to the laptop, Sherlock began scrawling on a notepad and took samples of a particularly interesting sample he had found. Hearing Jane get up again, he looked up at the ceiling before getting up again.

“Jane, what are you doing?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he watched Jane pick up junk off the floor.

“What does it look like? I’m cleaning.”

“You are sick, you need to rest.” Sherlock said sternly, irritated.

“Why? I already rested for thirty minutes, I’m fine!” Jane protested.

“It takes more than thirty minutes to get rid of a fever, you aren’t fine.”

“Because you happen to be my commanding general, and can tell me what to do when I’m sick.” Jane snidely remarked, folding her arms.

“You’re a doctor Jane. If you saw your patient cleaning while sick, would you let them?” Sherlock asked innocently, his eyebrows arched.

“No. I don’t quite like you when you’re right.”

“I often am though.” He hummed.

“Exactly.”

Laying back down, Jane tried in vain to sleep.

“It’s no good, I can’t sleep.”

“It hasn’t even been ten minutes. If you can’t sleep, then watch that Telly that you were so determined to get.” Sherlock sighed.

Getting up, Jane slowly went up her stairs, and came down with a DVD.

“Harry Potter..?” Sherlock said aloud as she put it in.

“Yeah. You do know what it is, right?”

“No.”

“Another thing to tease you about. I honestly think you’d like it, has magic, adventure, that sort of thing.”

“Magic, dull. Magic is merely a fiction we create to try and explain the illogical.”

“Thanks Spock. Want to watch it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh c’mon, make a sick woman happy.”

Scooting over, Jane patted the spot next to her. Reluctantly, Sherlock stiffly sat next to her as she pushed play. Needless to say, it was predictable. Parents murdered by a man who would come back soon enough, half the series would be about preventing his return, the next half is stopping him, the headmaster would most likely die, and the Professor of something or another was in love with the main protagonists mother, and it is now his duty or obligation to protect the boy.

“I haven’t done this since I was….young.” Jane murmured, watching the movie.

“When I was little, I didn’t get sick a lot. Whenever I did get ill, the only one who cared was my brother. We’d use to watch movies when I was sick, he’d make me soup. He was always busy, but tried to make time for me.”

Sherlock was quite certain Jane always held a dislike for Harry.

“Harry and you did this to pass the time.”

“Harry? No way, Harry and I never got along growing up. I’m talking about my older brother, John.”

She has another sibling. He always thought it was just her and Harry.

“Did you not know?” Jane inquired, brow furrowing.

He hated not knowing.

“No...” Sherlock muttered.

“Strange, I always thought I had said-”

Coughing, Jane leaned over and felt her head pound.

“Rest.” Sherlock mandated.

Glaring at him for bossing her, Jane gave up and put her head on his shoulder. Rigid, Sherlock blinked several times before looking down at him.

“You’re acting as if a girl’s never done this. Now hush, and let me sleep.”

No girl _had_ ever done this. Closing her eyes, she pulled her comforter up to her shoulders and drifted off. Staying as still as possible, Sherlock tried to watch the Telly. Looking down at her for the thirtieth time, Sherlock tried to think of ways to go without waking her, but it was no use. Giving up, he waited for her to wake up. Two hours and thirteen minutes later, Jane finally opened her eyes.

“What time is it…?” Jane asked groggily, looking around.

“Eleven.”

“In the morning…?”

“Night.”

“Oh.” Rubbing her eyes, she stretched.

“Did you really sit here for two hours?”

Averting his eyes, Sherlock looked at the black Telly.

“The movies over.” Jane yawned.

“Astute observation.”

“Shut it. I bet when you’re sick, you can’t tell right from left.”

Noticing she was still curled around him, she scooted away quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or embarrassed you should have moved.” Jane rambled without taking a breath.

“You were fine Jane.”

“Then I’m going to try and get some sleep now that I feel a little better. I really hope you don’t catch something by being around me, it’s not good to be around sick people.”

“And yet you used me as a pillow.”

“Oi, I said I was sorry.” Jane mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat.

Chuckling, Sherlock got up.

“Go to bed.” He said, sitting down by his microscope.

“Yes, Sir.” She said, giving a mock salute, tromping up the stairs.

When he heard her door close, he sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. It had never occurred to him, that there were murkier stories she had, that went past even her military life. And it had never crossed his mind that perhaps he was one of the only that Jane had ever… Shaking his head at himself, he looked back to his microscope, and decided.

He would not leave her alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write hehe. Sick Jane, Harry Potter, and a plot twist. And yes, the actual John Watson will be in this story. John Watson is one of my favourite literature characters, and I thought it'd be nice to have him as Jane's sibling. Anyhow, thank you for reading!


	7. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important decisions are made, and Jane and Sherlock have a drink.

Putting her head on her desk, Jane tried very hard not to just fall asleep. They had just completed another case, and now she was at work. Drinking her black coffee, she massaged her forehead slightly before buzzing in her next patient. After dealing with a crying kid, two cankerous men, and an irritated woman, Jane finally got a lunch break.

After taking a short walk to clear her head, Jane willed herself to go back. Opening the door to the clinic, she accidentally bumped into Sanford.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” He apologised awkwardly, looking away.

Biting back her annoyance, she smiled back politely and kept walking. Ever since the case of the Chinese Locus, Sanford seemed incapable of making a normal conversation with her. While Jane did not have grudges about the relationship, Sanford felt as if he had broken her heart, or she broke his.

“Sanford…you know you can very well look at me in the eyes.” She teased him, making him turn scarlet.

“I-I do-but-” Looking away again, Sanford awkwardly shuffled off.

It seemed everyone turned into that at work. Since the news had gotten out that the new doctor worked with the police, and nearly gotten Sanford murdered, things went sour. Every conversation at work with her was cool and very stiff. Fighting through the day, Jane finally got off work. Picking up her cheque, she walked to the bank to deposit it. After the bank, she stopped at Costco’s before returning home. Finally reaching 221B, Jane sighed, and pushed open the door.

“Welcome home, Jane!” Mrs. Hudson called from her flat.

“Hello...” She greeted their landlady, slipping off her jacket and hung it up.

“I meant to tell you, Sherlock snuck out a while ago. A new case turned up for him.”

“Right, thank you.” She said, nodding as she trudged up the stairs.

Jane was not quite sure if she was happy, or disappointed. She wanted to solve crimes, but she also wanted sleep. It was difficult to preform two jobs. After a beer and leftovers, Jane took a shower then went to her room. As soon as her head hit the pillows, she was asleep. That is, until her phone went off. Startling awake, she checked her wrist watch, which told her it was nearly two in the morning. Groaning slightly, she answered her phone.

“Hello?” She asked tiredly, pushing some hair from her face.

“You’re asleep?? Get dressed and go downstairs!” She heard Sherlock say.

“What?”

“You heard me, I hate repeating myself. I found a lead on the Ghanaian gang I was telling you about yesterday.”

“I was at work…” She grumbled.

“Not my fault you weren’t present during the conversation. Be down in five minutes.”

“No.” She said.

“Sorry?”

“No. I just finished a case with you, I had a bad day at work, and I just cannot work with you tonight.” Jane complained.

“Work.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, work. I need to do that so we have money to pay the bills.” Hearing Sherlock give a resigned sigh, Jane felt slightly remorseful.

“I am sorry Sherlock.”

“Goodnight Jane.”

Hanging up on him, Jane lay back down, though sleep was gone. She wanted to help out, very much so. But work did stop her from doing that. Her work did not like her taking off much, so what on earth could she do? Jane and Sherlock barely saw the other that week. While he was off solving crimes, she was at home, and if he were home, she was working overtime at the clinic.

Finally, on a Friday afternoon, Jane had it. On break, she looked back at the first entry she had made on Sherlock. She knew she had to make a decision. Which was more important? Her work, or Sherlock? True, her work paid well enough. But with the amount they made on cases, it would make up for it, even if money would be a bit tighter. Pulling up a document, Jane started typing up her letter of resignation. She’d only work two more weeks, and then she was done.

On her way out, she flipped the letter into Sarah’s mail slot and went on her merry way. She didn’t work the next day, so Jane decided to get a drink. After ordering herself her favourite dinner (fish, chips and beer) she found a quiet booth and sat down. Diving in, Jane looked out the window, watching the passer-by’s. Was she truly making a wise decision at this moment? She wondered. Getting a text, Jane checked it.

_Sent 6:45-You’re late.-SH_

Smiling a little, she texted back.

_Sent 6:48-didnt realise i was on curfew_

_Sent 6:50-Your capitalisation and punctuation is atrocious.-SH_

Putting her phone down for a few minutes, Jane ordered another drink and then wrote back.

_Sent 7:00-thnks_

She could almost see him rolling his eyes at this text.

_Sent 7:05- Where are you?-SH_

_Sent 7:08- deduce & ill see if youre right_

Setting her phone down, Jane finished off her meal and just silently looked out the window, her feet propped up on the booth opposite her.

“Here.”

Jumping, she looked up to see Sherlock looming over her.

“You found me just from a text? Bravo!” She said, clapping her hands.

Ordering a drink, Sherlock pushed her legs over slightly to sit across from her.

“How unusual.” He said, looking around.

“What?”

“You usually don’t get drinks after work.” Laughing a little, Jane took a sip.

“True.”

Looking at her strangely, Jane gave him a quizzing glance.

“What?”

“You’re resigning from your work.”

“What? How on earth did you know??” She asked, surprised.

“You are in unusual high spirits, when you are more often than not, in a foul mood after work. However, you are uncertain about this decision because you do not know how to handle your financial stature.”

Surprised, she stared at him as the waitress set down his drink.

“You never fail to amaze me.”

“I know.” He replied sardonically.

“You're right…I am thinking of resigning. Or, I already sent in my letter. Just not sure how to handle my finances.” Jane admitted.

“Cases pay enough.”

“Yes, but that is your money Sherlock! I wouldn’t like taking your money.”

“You are my partner, are you not?”

"Yeah.”

“Right there. You do work as well. Not as much as me, or get nearly as much ground. Frankly, sometimes you just get into more trouble than you do solve.”

Pissed off now, Jane bit the inside of her cheek.

“Thanks.”

“But, you are capable. We would split the fees.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Smiling, Jane lifted her pint.

“Cheers then.”

Looking somewhat abashed, Sherlock slightly clinked his pint with hers, then quickly brought his glass back down.

***

Two weeks later, it was Jane’s last day in the office. Packing her box up, she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!” She called, as Sanford came in.

“Sanford, hello!”

“Uh-hello.”

Standing there awkwardly, he messed with his collar slightly.

“What is it?”

“I just…wanted to make sure you’re really alright leaving.”

“Oh. Well, yes. It’s hard to work two jobs.”

“Yes, but, you’re not leaving because of me, are you?”

“Because of you?”

Running his fingers through his hair for a moment, Sanford nervously exhaled.

“I’m not going to lie, I’ve been acting like a prat lately. You tried to make efforts to speak with me, and I acted as if that incident was your fault. But it wasn’t. I don’t want you leaving work, with our friendship on a sour note.”

Smiling at him, Jane laughed a little.

“Thank you. I’d like to stay friends, Sanford.”

“Yes-I’d like to do the same.”

Shaking hands with him, she heaved up her box.

“Let’s meet up sometime.” She said cheerfully, leaving.

Walking home in high spirits, Jane felt loads lighter. No longer would she need to worry about the conflicting schedules. As soon as she was home, she was out the door three minutes later on a case. Jane frankly didn’t care that she’d gotten dragged out as soon as she returned. S

he had missed this, and was ready to return to the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries to be supportive haha. I honestly love imagining the two of them just sitting somewhere, having a pint and a chat. Until next time!


	8. Belarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epic battle over a squirrel, and Sherlock learns just how stubborn Jane can truly be.

Sitting in her arm chair, Jane did her best not to look up at her flat mate. If she gave him attention of any sort, he’d just act up again, she knew he would.

“Jane. I am bored.”

Ignoring him pointedly, she continued writing her blog. Supremely irritated that she paid him no heed, he tried again.

“Bored.”

Silence. Pacing around, Sherlock looked up at the ceiling before going into the kitchen. When Jane heard nothing for several minutes, she slowly looked up. Now she knew what it was like for John when she was a child. If she was silent for all of five minutes, she was probably doing something awful.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” Jane asked, getting up.

“I am experimenting with the putrefying effect of the pollex, and how long it lasts in acetic and carbonic acid.” Sherlock explained to her.

“You mean you’re seeing how long thumbs last in weak acids?” Jane translated, walking over.

“Yes.”

“Honestly, the things you do when you’re bored. Have you looked for any cases lately?”

“No.”

“No, why not?”

“Because, Lestrade only brings the ones he knows will be of interest to me.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Jane muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jane answered.

“But if you are so desperately in need of a case, stop being so picky and just choose one.” Standing up, Jane slipped on her shoes.

“Where are you going?”

“Grocery store, like I always do.”

“Not on Mondays.”

“But I do on Tuesdays, which is today. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hearing the door slam, Sherlock watched her leave from behind the glass before his eyes swept over the empty flat. What to do?

***

“I’m home!” Jane called, swinging open the door.

When she heard nothing but silence, she cautiously closed the door and stepped slowly into the foyer.

“Sherlock…? Hello?”

Hearing a loud crash and Sherlock curse, Jane bolted up the stairs.

“What’s wrong-?!”

Looking over at their couch, Jane clenched her fists. Part of the leather cushions were melted, and one of the legs was broken. And the strangest part of it all was Sherlock chasing down a squirrel of all things.

“You care to explain what the heck is going on?” Jane demanded, her voice reaching a new octave.

“Oh…you’re home.”

“ _Yeah,_ I’m home. Now stop dodging the question mate!” Jane seethed.

“…I was experimenting on the mammal habitual customs of a ‘safe haven’.”

“You lured a squirrel into our flat?”

Looking down at the squirrel, Jane whirled on Sherlock.

“And it looks sick!”

“It has rabies, of course it’s sick.”

Cracking her knuckles, Jane wrathfully stared up at Sherlock.

“You…allowed a rodent with rabies into the flat?! Does nothing satiate your boredom?”

“I can explain the-”

Watching the squirrel scuttle under Sherlock’s chair, Jane glared at him.

“Forget it. Let’s just get it out.” Jane interrupted brusquely, snatching the pot Sherlock had used for the squirrel.

“Get some kind of nuts and then we’re going to trap him in here. I think there are some pecans in the cupboard above the sink.”

Crouching on her knees, Jane looked down at the squirrel. Clicking her tongue, Jane tried to wheedle the squirrel.

“Come on out, no one’s going to hurt you.” She coaxed.

“Instead of that ridiculous sweet-talk, it will be more logical to scare him into the pot.” Sherlock said, poking the squirrel with a broom.

Panicking, the squirrel darted out from under Sherlock’s arm chair and behind the couch.

“ _Sherlock_! I almost had him, you stupid moron!” Jane yelled at him, hitting his arm.

“No, even if you did coax him, it wouldn’t have worked, he’s just a squirrel.”

“Remind me how you ever became a detective.” Jane grumbled before hearing the squirrel squeak and a scuttling sound.

Getting on her knees, Jane watched in horror as the squirrel wriggled into a hole in the wall-and was gone.

“Now you’ve bloody done it!” Jane shouted getting up.

“It is hardly my fault.” Sherlock sniffed.

“Oh yes it is! You brought that thing in, and so help me, you’re getting it out. Find that squirrel.”

“Or what?” Sherlock asked, a challenging edge in his voice.

Looking him dead in the eyes, Jane answered:

“I won’t speak to you until you do.”

Arching an eyebrow at her, Sherlock found the idea of her being silent highly unlikely. He would give it a day, tops. The next morning however, he was proven wrong. Breezing in coolly, Jane silently made tea for herself and sat down. Sipping it, she opened her laptop and begun her 30 word per minute typing. After an hour, she put her dishes in the sink, and then, would leave the flat altogether.

That very same pattern occurred for three, appalling days. She would come home, eat, without so much as uttering a single word to him except ‘pass the salt’. It. Was. Agonizing.

“Stubborn woman.” He muttered under his breath as she returned to her room.

He had to find that abominable squirrel or this irritating cycle would continue. Sitting in silence, Sherlock scrutinized the article. Rodents usually stay in small areas, usually within walls. If the squirrel stayed long, would it be possible for it to nest, and then start breeding? Scowling, Sherlock looked at the walls. As Jane would say, that would be a ‘bit not good’ scenario. For the first time since he’d last seen the squirrel, he heard it. A distinct scuttling sound. Grabbing oven mitts and a broom, Sherlock listened carefully and followed the sound.

Of course the squirrel would go up near Jane’s room. Sighing inwardly, he carefully crept up the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones. Pushing open the door, he cringed slightly at the _creeeaaakk_ of the old door and looked around for the squirrel. Turning on his phone flashlight, Sherlock grimaced. It was as if all forces were against him. The squirrel was scrambling up on Jane’s bed. Raising the broom, he swung it down. In one chaotic moment, the squirrel gave a half snarl-wail, and Jane was unpleasantly woken. Yelping slightly when the squirrel clawed up her walls and bedding, Jane jumped out of bed.

“What’s going on?! Why is the squirrel here??” Ignoring her, Sherlock dumped out the contents of a ceramic bowl on her dresser and put it over the squirrel.

“Caught it.” Putting a hand to her beating heart, she ran a hand through her dishevelled hair.

“So you did…how did it even get up here?”

“Most likely through the walls.”

Shaking her head, Jane leaned against the bed and grabbed her phone.

“Decided to go squirrel hunting at two in the morning huh?” Stretching, Jane opened her dresser and pulled out jeans and a sweater.

“Go get something to get this squirrel out. As soon as I’m dressed, we’ll go drop the little guy off somewhere, alright?” Nodding, he closed the door.

As soon as she opened the door, they quickly ushered him into a cooking pot and put the lid over it.

“To bad we don’t have anything else.” Jane remarked, closing the door quietly behind them.

“Mhm.” Walking, Jane looked around.

Drunken kids returning from a party, a business man talking into a phone, people moving about in the early, black, morning.

“London never sleeps, does it? This is actually the first time I’ve been out this early when we’re not solving crimes. We’re usually too busy to notice these sorts of things.” Jane mused.

After a few moments of quiet, Jane sighed and looked up at him.

“…I’m sorry for being such a prat these couple of days. While it _was_ your fault, I was being a bit extreme.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Stopping at a park, Sherlock released the squirrel and let it run free.

“Whew…I’m sure he’s just as happy as we are.”

Yawning, Jane spotted an all-night coffee house.

“Care for a coffee? I can pay.”

Nodding a little, Sherlock and Jane headed in.

“I really am sorry.” Jane apologised tiredly, sipping her black coffee.

“Stop apologising. I don’t care.”

“Okay…you need to find a case though.”

“Sorry?” Sherlock asked.

“Case. You’ve been driving everyone about half mad. Even if it’s just something small, we should try and get some case work done.” Jane insisted.

***

The next morning, Sherlock had a ticket and bag, ready to go to Belgravia. Leaning against his doorway, Jane sighed.

“When I said find a case, I didn’t mean you had to go international.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Jane. I am doing this, out of free will.”

“Or boredom.” Jane chuckled.

“Aren’t your bags packed?” Sherlock asked.

“My bags? What, you think I am going with you?”

“…Yes.”

“I am sorry to disappoint then. I’m not going.”

“What? Why not.”

“Because, Sherlock. I did tell you this earlier, but John is visiting, and I really would rather see him, then go. I just can’t go with you this time.”

Closing the suitcase, Sherlock said nothing. Sensing his carefully hidden disappointment, Jane let a steady breath leave.

“I am sorry. Next time, give me a heads up then. Have fun in Belgravia.” Jane nodded at him, before leaving him to his thoughts.

He shouldn’t feel disappointed that she was not accompanying him. Of course Jane would want to see John. He seemed to be the only family member Jane liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it!! And, good news! I am almost done with the first chapter of my next installment. Expect a chapter for that to come out soon! Until next time!


	9. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Tim bond, and Sherlock finds himself in the position of a nurse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this chapter. I got the prompt from the lovely Gym Anderson. I was asked by this user to write about a drugged Jane or Sherlock. And this is the result!

Walking down the street, Jane rubbed her arms. Sherlock had sent her out for some research, while he worked at Bart’s. She’d found a good bit of evidence today. The pictures of that aquarium could very well send their man to prison.

“Hey! Oi!”

She heard a loud whisper. Looking over through the alley, she saw the figure of a boy. Wracking her memory, she recalled him being in Sherlock's homeless network. In fact, the one from the case about the Chinese Locus.

“…Tim? What are you doing back there?”

“Hiding. There’s some guys tryin’ to get me.”

“Get you? What, you’re about fifteen right? Why’d they go after you?”

“Well, the thing is-”

“There he is!” They heard a booming voice bellow.

“Crap!”

Jumping to his feet, Tim grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled her along.

“Hey! What-!?”

“C’mon, they’ll get you to!”

“Get me? What did you do Tim?”

“Somethin’ stupid apparently! We just got ta run!”

“In that case we need to go to Bart’s! Sherlock’s over there right now!” Jane argued as they ran into an alley.

“No good. Running out in the open ain’t good. They’ll know we’re going there.”

“Who is ‘they’? I need an explanation now.” Jane said sternly.

“They’re these dealers. Ya know that aquarium?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they kinda know the dude who owns it, and I kinda let that slip.”

“You let it slip?? What were you doing, talking to them in the first place?” Jane demanded.

“Bit o’ undercover work.”

“You’re too young to be doing this sort of thing! Honestly, where are your parents?”

“Sort o’ don’t have ‘em. Dad’s run off, and Mum’s just…a mess.” Tim grumbled.

Backing into an old house, Jane and Tim sat down.

“We can stay here for a bit, I guess.” Tim sighed glumly.

“In that case, I need to tell Sherlock that we’re being chased.”

Pulling out her phone, she gave an aggravated sigh when nothing pulled up.

“Great. And Sherlock has my gun to. Perfect.” Jane complained.

“Eh. They’ll leave eventually, I guess. We can’t leave now, or they’ll come an’ get us.”

Leaning against the wall, Jane cracked her knuckles, and tried to think of something to speak about.

“I’ve been wondering this for a while now Tim. How do you know Sherlock?”

“Known him since I was a kid actually.”

“Oh really?” Jane gave an amused smile as he used the term ‘kid’.

“Yeh. Since I was ‘bout ten years old.”

“Ten, huh? Started young, did you?”

“I guess.”

“How did you two meet?”

***

_Looking at the tall figure, Tim looked around. He knew this guy was smart, but also loaded. The way that man held himself meant he knew what he was doing, and dared anyone to challenge that fact. This one, would not be so easy to pick-pocket from. Still, Tim had always been a dare devil. If someone told him he couldn’t do it, he very well would. And he would not back down from this challenge._

_Getting closer to him, Tim watched as he stood still, waiting for the walkers path light. Hurrying over, he held his breath as he slipped his small hand into the coat pocket. Feeling the brush of leather, Tim carefully held it. Sliding his hand out, he kept a careful eye out on the man, who still didn’t seem to notice. Suddenly, the light changed, and Tim was jostled into the tall man. Growing pale, Tim hurriedly tried to run, but the current of people proved difficult to surpass. Feeling his shoulder being gripped, Tim panicked._

_“Let me go! It-it not what it look like! I didn’t do nothin’.”_

_“Anything.”_

_“What??”_

_“I didn’t do anything. That is the correct usage.”_

_“Yeh, as if I care about me grammar.”_

_“My grammar.” He corrected._

_Growling, Tim struggled._

_“Oi, everything all right?”_

_“Of course officer. My son almost got lost.”_

_“I’m not his-”_

_“Now, now come on then.”_

_Being pushed forward, Tim blinked owlishly at him._

_“Where are you takin’ me?”_

_“I have a job for you.”_

_“A job? I dun understand.”_

_“I don’t understand.” The man, again corrected._

_***_

_Being taken into a tiny, white flat, Tim waited for him as he dug through a box_

_“What’s this?” Tim suspiciously asked, as he looked at the black device in his palm._

_“A mobile. Obviously you will need it, to stay in contact with me.”_

_“And-why would I do somethin’ like that??”_

_“Because, you attempted to pick pocket me, and you obviously need money. No one will hire you however, due to your age.”_

_“Well-I dun get it.”_

_“You are observant, and poor. That is exactly what I need. I need you to go places that I cannot, and in order to do that, you need to be poor.”_

_“Why can’t ya just pretend ta be poor?” Tim squinted suspiciously at him._

_“I doubt I could pass off as a poor man. I already have my number in, and you are not to add another, unless you have my permission.”_

_“Who says I want this stupid thing?”_

_“Believe me, you will want it. I am going to give you your first job. Depending on how well you do, I might give you another job.”_

_“What-wait!”_

_“First job. Go to St. Bart’s Hospital. Go to the left corner of the building that is closest to the stairs, and wait. You will find a man in a green hood. Go, tell him ‘gottle-o-geer’ and he will give you something. Then return and give it to me.”_

_“Why can’t ya just do it yourself?”_

_“Because I am busy. Now go.”_

_“Wait, wait, and wait! I dunno your name! You dunno mine!”_

_“My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I really could care less what your name is. Now go.”_

_Going out, Tim confusedly looked back. Not only did this Sherlock not send him to juvies, but actually gave him a phone, and a job. Odd._

_***_

_Over the next few weeks, Tim would get directions for weird sort of jobs. One, he had to even find a particular Tabby, with only the part of city it was in. It was hard, but seven gruelling hours later, he found the cat. Others were easy, like finding out what certain brand a coffee ground sample was._

_“Mr. ‘Olmes! I came ta-” Pausing, he looked around._

_The compact flat had boxes all around it, and the walls, which were usually full of notes, was empty._

_“What all this?”_

_“What is all this.” Sherlock corrected absently, throwing a few books into a random box._

_“Yeh, that. What’re you doin’?”_

_“Moving, obviously.”_

_“But…why?”_

_“A previous client just offered a much more affordable flat on sale.”_

_Looking at the flat, Tim smirked. The bland, one room flat was as small and cramped as it could get. Any cheaper flats were probably in a Harlem type place._

_“Alright…well, where can I find you from here on?”_

_“221B Baker Street.” Sherlock responded, taking a drag of his cigarette._

_“Oh…okay.”_

_Looking at a book on science, Tim carefully picked it up and started reading. He didn’t attend school often, but when he did, he breathed it in. He loved learning. Making sure Sherlock wasn’t looking his way, Tim tucked the book under his coat._

_“Well, good luck Mr. ‘Olmes.” He said, hopping down the stairs._

_That was how their relationship was. Once a week or so, Sherlock would phone him with some odd job. And every now and again, Tim wouldn’t hear from him for months. One time, it was six months before he heard from Sherlock. Tim would often sneak books out, and return them. Soon, books about math, history, and (suspiciously) several books on grammar started appearing on Sherlock Holmes's shelves._

_Three years later, Sherlock begun appointing him to recruit even more people for the homeless network. Within months, Sherlock had two hundred all over England. While he only really used around fifty a month, Tim wondered how much it cost him. Five years after meeting him, it’d virtually been the same since they’d met. Sherlock was always indifferent, and Tim was closed off about his personal relations. One day however, Sherlock had an odd question._

_“How do you know if you are…isolated?”_

_Raising an eyebrow, Tim looked at the man on the couch._

_“Isolated…?”_

_After Sherlock gave a short nod, Tim pursed his lips together as he thought._

_“Well um…you have two…chairs, just kinda facin’ each other.”_

_Scowling, Sherlock sat up._

_“You?” He echoed._

_“This is for a case.”_

_“Sorry, just theoretical!” Tim hurriedly explained._

_Relaxing, Sherlock lay back down._

_“Anyway, eh, s’ppose someone has two armchairs, an’ only uses one of ‘em. He don’t really let anyone use the other chair, and just kinda directs ‘em to sit somewhere else. I guess that would mean this person is waiting for a certain person to sit in that other chair.” Tim said carefully._

_“Ah.” Silently, Sherlock stared up at the ceiling._

_“That’s all then.”_

_“Right...”_

_Going down the stairs, Tim was about to go out the door, when he remembered he’d left his jacket, he went back up._

_“Sorry, left me-”_

_Stopping at the doorway, Tim looked at Sherlock. His hand on the burgundy armchair, Sherlock was looking at it, with an almost sorrowful expression._

_“Mr. ‘Olmes?”_

_Removing his hand from the chair as if he’d been burned, Sherlock turned to the window. Tim then realised, that Sherlock truly was a lonesome man. Underneath all of the sarcasm, confidence, and self-dependency, a small part of Sherlock was holding out. Waiting for someone to sit across from him in that burgundy chair. Feeling incredibly sorry for Sherlock, Tim sighed and headed back down the stairs, shrugging on his jacket. Sometimes, he really felt sorry for the poor sod._

_***_

“So that’s when you started working for him? That is very much Sherlock.” Jane smiled, listening.

“Yeh.”

“Explains why we have so many grammar books to.” She mumbled, then peeked out the window.

“It’s pretty dark now. Think they’ve gone?”

“We can try.” Tim said, carefully opening the window.

“I’ll get out first, then you.”

Climbing out, Tim carefully looked around.

“No one.”

As they made their way down the alley, Tim heard the sound of a gun clicking. Jane didn’t bring a gun. Grabbing Jane, Tim bolted.

“Tim, get up the roof!” Jane instructed, before going up a fire escape.

Running across the roofs, Jane kept her eye out.

“They’re still coming. We need to get to safer ground, we’re sitting ducks!” She said, scooting down on a pipe.

“Y-yeh. You’re kind of calm about all this!”

“Well, this happens virtually every week. Suppose I’m just used to it now.” Jane said casually, landing on the grimy ground.

“Although,” She sighed as they trudged along. “I would have very much liked my gun.”

As they made it further, Jane turned just in time to see one man.

“Wait…”

Looking at him carefully, she remembered his face from the suspects list Sherlock had shown her.

“Both of you, into that garage.” He growled, pointing a gun at them.

Having no choice, Jane and Tim reluctantly went into the abandoned garage.

“So, you are…Brian Miller.” She said coldly, glaring at him.

“Yeh, an’ you two are the ones that’re tryin’ to get me. How ironic.” He chuckled.

“Tim…” Jane whispered.

“Run when I tell you to. Get Sherlock.”

“I ain’t leavin’ you.”

“You’ll be in my way.” She replied.

“Oi, what’s the chit chat?” He demanded, loading his gun.

Suddenly launching herself at the man, Jane tackled him to the ground, trying to pry the gun out of his hands.

“Tim, run!!” She yelled, as she ripping the gun out of the man's hand.

Running as fast as he could, Tim panicked. He didn’t want to leave her, but he had no choice. Making it onto a busy area of town, Tim shakily dialled Sherlock’s number.

“Hello?”

“Mr. ‘Olmes!!”

“Ah, Tim, have you found any-”

“-She’s fightin’ this guy! He has a gun, she don’t, she told me to run!! I-I-I dunno if she’s alive.”

“That idiot.” He grumbled under his breath before asking, “Where are you?”

***

As soon as Sherlock pulled up, Tim lead him to the garage.

“Jane??” Sherlock asked, looking around.

Going into the garage, Sherlock’s fists clenched when he saw blood on the pavement, then the scruffs on the ground. The smaller pair of feet looked as if it was getting dragged.

“Size seven feet…” Getting a cold chill, Sherlock looked around, before spotting a small body on the ground.

“Jane!”

Running over, he turned her on her back.

“Jane, answer me, are you alright?”

Looking at a needle jabbed in her thigh, he pulled it out, and his jaw tightened. She had been drugged.

“We need to take her to a hospital.” Sherlock said, picking her up and walking quickly.

“What about the guy?” Tim asked.

“Leave him. He won’t get a foot out of London.” Sherlock said darkly.

“In the meantime Tim, return home. I have a job for you tomorrow.”

***

After three taxing hours at the hospital, Sherlock was finally allowed to see Jane.

“She will be fine sir, she just needs to sleep off the rest of the drugs. I should warn you though, she is rather unstable, and it might take a while for her to return to normal.”

Nodding, Sherlock entered the room she was in. Leaning woozily to the side, Jane looked at Sherlock and giggled.

“Whoozat?”

“It’s your friend, he’s taking you home now.”

“Ooooo hahahah!” She laughed, trying to stand up.

Helping her up, the doctor carefully made sure Sherlock was near her.

“Eh…I wanna go home.” She mumbled.

“Then, let’s go home.” Sherlock answered, as he attempted to take her shoulders.

“Noo!” Jane protested, shrugging him off.

“You…don’t want to leave?” He asked, confused.

“I don’t wanna go home with ya jerk.” She slurred.

“Jane, you just said you wished to go home.”

“Mph.” She mumbled, putting her head against the wall.

“You are being ridiculous. Come on, the cab will not wait forever.”

Stunned, the doctor frowned at him.

“Sir…you do realise, that she is heavily under the influence of drugs? She will be nonsensical for hours.”

“…Yes. I just…” Sighing, he gently but tightly led her out.

Once they were in the car, Jane curiously looked around.

“What’s that???” She asked, pointing at the cabby’s head.

“It’s so pre-tty!” Jane squealed.

“Shh Jane.” Sherlock said under his breath as the cabby raised his eyebrows.

“What’s that?” Jane asked, as she tried to open the car door.

“Jane!!”

Pulling her away, he locked the door.

“Wot it’s so cool!”

“…What is?”

“That, duh.” Pointing at the door, she twittered.

“It’s like a window thing.”

“We’re here.” The cabby said impatiently, his eyes begging them to leave.

Giving him extra, Sherlock hauled her out of the cab.

“Byeee!!!” Jane cheered, flapping her hand at the car.

Opening the door, Sherlock hurriedly got them both in. Coming out of her flat, Mrs. Hudson frowned at Jane.

“Sherlock, is she…alright?”

“She was drugged, unfortunately.” Sherlock said, as Jane dazedly traced patterns on the wall.

“Where are we?!”

“Home, Jane.”

“This isn’t home John!”

“I am Sherlock. I am not John.”

“O-kay! You are so cutesy sometimes!” Jane laughed.

“What?”

“Yea, like a little puppy!” She giggled and started attempting to sound like a dog.

“I am not a dog.”

Laughing sympathetically, Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

“Poor dear, I’ll make you some tea. What happened?”

“She got into a fight, and the man drugged her so he could win.”

“Will she be alright??”

“Yes, it will wear off in a few hours.” Sherlock said, as Jane hit her head on the wall.

“Let’s get you to the couch.”

Lifting her up, Sherlock helped her up the stairs.

“Oh! You’re making that face.” Jane smiled.

“What face?”

“That face where your eyebrows are all squiiisshhhhh.”

“Alright.”

“Eyebrows!” She crowed, before flumping on the couch.

“Do you want water?” He asked, filling her up a cup.

“Noo!”

“Yes.” Making her sit up, Sherlock forced her to drink it.

“Have you ever had drugs before?” He asked, clearing away the cup.

“Noooo! But Harry’s had lots and lots!”

“Ah. Try and sleep.”

“But I’m not!”

“Not?”

“Sleepy….I am an eagle that soars!” Nodding a little, Sherlock sighed.

He missed his sane flatmate.

“My chair…” Sitting on it, she blinked up at him.

“You wanted me to sit on my chair!!! Tim told me that!!!”

Raising his eyebrows, Sherlock just looked at her.

“I am so happy, happy, and happy that you’re my flatmate!!! Yay!!”

Getting the first aid kit, Sherlock sat across her.

"What is that?? Is it a Tardis!?” She asked, trying to take it from him.

“No. It is a medical kit.” Sherlock replied, keeping a firm grip on the kit.

“Oh…” Sitting, she looked at him.

“Hold still, it will hurt.”

When he tried to clean her wound, she jerked away.

“Owww! No!”

“Jane, _hold still_.”

Dabbing at it, she whined like a two year old and slumped.

“Jane!” After ten minutes, he finally was able to get her cuts and bruises clean.

“Why is your hair curly?” She asked.

“It is how my hair has always been.”

“So curly!” She laughed and put her hands in it.

“ _Stop._ ”

“Aw your do cute! You use many, many hair products!”

He felt like he was going to go out of his mind.

***

For hours, she was hyper, and spouted nothing but nonsense. However, the worst part was when the drugs were fading. Leaning over the toilet, Jane threw up yet again.

“I don’t understand…” She cried tearfully.

“Calm down.” Sherlock said gingerly, patting her back.

“Why does my head hurt so bad…?” She cried, clutching her head.

“The effects of the drugs.”

“The effects of whu…”

Throwing up again, Jane shakily sighed.

“I’m tired….”

“Well you have been throwing up for nearly ten minutes.”

Giving a shuddery sigh, Jane lay on the floor.

“Rest for a bit.” Sherlock said reassuringly, tucking her small hand into his.

When she was asleep, Sherlock picked her up and went up the stairs. Grimacing at the smell of her breath, he tucked her in, and went downstairs. She had never had drugs before, presumably. They were in for quite a day tomorrow.

***

Waking up, Jane slowly sat up, her body screaming in protest. Looking at her reflection, she was appalled. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest, she had a swollen, purple cheek, and her eyes were red. Nearly gagging at the taste of her own breath, she shuffled down the stairs.

“Good morning.” Sherlock drawled casually.

“What….happened…to me?”

“Had a bit of a run in yesterday."

“I…what?”

She blinked confusedly at him. When he continued reading, she looked around.

“What time is it?”

“Four pm.”

“What? Why’d I sleep so late?”

“You had an…interesting day yesterday.”

“Uh huh…”

Feeling as if she’d eaten a bag of cotton, she wrinkled her nose.

“I’m getting a shower…I look like crap.”

In the shower, Jane’s memories came back in pieces. She remembered yelling at Tim, Sherlock’s past, and getting a punch in the face, and a pain in her arm. She was certain she was dreaming the rest though. She called herself an eagle, barked, and even complimented Sherlock’s eyebrows and hair.

“That’s ridiculous.” She muttered, combing through her hair.

Or was it? Cautiously going out of the bathroom, Jane glanced over at Sherlock.

“What…did I do?” She asked suspiciously.

“Nothing much. You were just drugged, and you only acted accordingly.”

“Acted accordingly?” Jane echoed.

“Yup.”

“I didn’t…ehm, act odd did I?”

When Sherlock didn’t answer, she narrowed her eyes.

“Should I be concerned that you aren’t yammering about this topic?”

“Should I be concerned that you are? No damage was done Jane, do not concern yourself over it.”

“That makes me feel worse.” She growled, turning on the kettle.

“You were under the influence. You were not conscious of your actions.”

“I feel terrible…” She mumbled, sinking onto her chair.

When Sherlock got up and put his coat and scarf on, she stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Tim and I are finding Brian Miller.”

“What? I’m going to!”

“No, you need to rest. I will have him by the end of the day.” Sherlock vowed.

Going down the stairs, Sherlock scowled. No one could drug Jane Watson, and get away with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh...poor Sherlock. Why he may be used to seeing lunatics, taking care of one is entirely different. As always, thank you for reading!


	10. Stuck in My Head too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Sherlock have a hum off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I was sitting there, pondering on what to post for Valentine's Day, I got another prompt from Choclaty_Minds to have Sherlock and Jane have a duet in the kitchen. I hope you guys like this, and have a lovely Valentine's Day!

“Why not? Sherlock, we had a bet!”

“I don’t take bets.”

“Yes, you do. You said you’d take it too.” Jane argued at him.

“I did not.” Sherlock argued back at her.

“You did! ‘Sure Jane, if you can tell me who the killer is, I’ll watch the blasted movie.’” Jane said, mimicking his deep voice.

“I do not speak like that.”

“In context, you agreed.” Looking at her from the kitchen, Sherlock gave her an exasperated look.

“If I agree to watch this, will you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“Fine…”

Getting up, he sat in his black armchair as Jane put it in, and went to pop them some popcorn. As soon as the movie started, Sherlock’s horror at the film began.

“That could not happen in real life.”

“I know.”

After watching a few more minutes, Sherlock frowned.

“That also, is not true. The formalities of that period, did not include-”

“-I know.”

“The pirates cannot be skeletons! That is impossible.”

“Sherlock…this is a Disney movie. In a Disney movie, there isn’t really many accuracies. So just, shut it, and enjoy.”

Shutting his mouth, Sherlock sighed and watched the movie in silence. Every now and again, he’d see something he obviously found outside the realm of possibility and would raise his eyebrows. But for the most part, he stayed silent and munched on popcorn.

_Sometimes, Sherlock does not act so awful…_ Jane mused happily.

After the movie was over, Sherlock got up and stretched.

“Well? What did you think of the movie?” She asked, picking up her bowl.

“Mm, well, besides the horrible misinterpretation of physics, geography, science, social histories, and traditions, I would say rather well.”

“Mr. Sunshine today, aren’t we? The soundtrack, you must admit, is pretty spectacular.”

“It was well enough.”

“I saw you drumming your fingers to parts of it.” She teased, going into the kitchen to put away stuff.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, as she turned the faucet on.

“Cleaning up the kitchen.”

“Why? Mrs. Hudson will do it later.”

“She’s not a housemaid! I do like having it clean every now and then.” Jane said, scrubbing at the dishes.

Walking over, Sherlock started throwing food away and taking dishes to the sink as well. As she watched the soapy water run over a bowl, she absently hummed part of the soundtrack.

“You aren’t singing that right.” Sherlock interrupted tersely, as he put away the silverware.

“Sorry?”

“I hate repeating myself Jane.”

“Then, how would you suggest I hum it?”

“Do it again first.” When she tried, Sherlock shook his head.

“No, no. You’re not doing it right. Here, you do it like this.” Humming it, Sherlock went over the notes.

“Now try it.”

Humming it, Jane nodded to the beat.

“Better.”

Laughing, Jane went back to finishing the dishes. Humming a light beat, Jane swept over the floor as Sherlock found himself joining her.

“All we need now is your violin, and we’re set.” Jane joked, winking at him.

Smirking a little, Sherlock walked out for a moment and came in with the violin.

“You’re kidding! You’ve only heard the soundtrack once, you can’t play it right now.”

“I can try.” Sherlock said stubbornly, lifting the violin to his chin.

After whittling out a rather achy sounding tune, Jane shook her head.

“That’s not how it’s played.”

After trying for fifteen minutes, Sherlock grew frustrated.

“One minute, let me see if I can find you sheet music.” Jane said, marching out.

Coming in with her laptop, she typed in some keywords, and in a few minutes, pulled up some sheet music for him. After looking it over for a few minutes, Sherlock hummed it out as he tried it out again. At first, it came out a little scratchy, but the more he played it, the more beautiful it sounded.

“Good job!” Jane laughed and joined in.

After he finished, Sherlock carefully set his beloved laptop on the table, before he took her laptop.

“There’s another tune that I want to try.” Sherlock remarked, clacking into the computer.

***

“Yo-ho-yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me....” Jane sang in her alto voice, as Sherlock accompanied her on the violin.

Five songs later and a beer or two in, they were still in the full swing of music. Laughing when they finished, Jane sat in the chair across from him, and propped her feet up on his chair.

“We should do this more often,” She commented, taking a sip of her beer.

“Mn, I think not. Best not Mrs. Hudson find out about this.” He chuckled.

“I thought you didn’t _care_ what people think.” Jane brought up, eyeing him.

“I don’t. But I don’t enjoy listening to gossip between Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner.” At this, Jane shuddered.

Mrs. Turner was Baker Street’s gossip. She always knew when they’d been talked about if Speedy’s owner gave them a knowing look as they ordered their coffee.

“Yeah…I can’t disagree with you there.”

“You recall when we got rid of Mycroft’s bugs?” Sherlock asked her, drinking out of his glass.

“Oh! That was a while ago. What about it?”

“You said, that you hadn’t laughed since the military. Why?”

“Well…”

The mood suddenly shifted to serious. Shoulder’s dropped a little, as Jane tried to think of an answer.

“…I loved the army. Don’t mistake that, it used to be my life. However, I…was in a situation I couldn’t escape.” Jane muttered, her eyes distant.

She would never forget the blood, the pain. Jane would never forget the agony, and what if felt to grasp at the dimming hope of life. Never.

“Jane?”

“No…sorry, I didn’t mean to drift."  
Exhaling, Jane silently thought of what to say.

"Since I’ve met you, life has looked less…I don’t know, grey, I suppose.” Jane admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

Finishing his drink, Sherlock sighed. He never completely forgot of Jane’s past. Sherlock did not pry of course. But it was beyond him what actually happened. He wanted to ask, but he did not want to as well.

“So…one more song?” Jane asked, smiling at him.

Sherlock knew what Jane was doing. A good way to escape this difficult conversation.

“Why not?” he asked, picking up the violin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading you guys!!!


	11. Sick Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock catches the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking through my chapters, wondering what to write about, and it hit me that I haven't written about Sherlock being ill. I hope you all enjoy, and sorry I haven't been posting much for these shorts lately. I plan on stepping my game up.

“Stop nagging!” Sherlock snapped as they pulled up to 221B.

“I’m not nagging you! I just…think it might be a nice idea, for you to possibly call it a day! We solved the case, so you can relax.” Jane tried to reason with him.

“No, I need a new case! Relaxing is boring.” Sherlock grumbled as he unlocked the flat.

“Would do you some good. You’ll get sick.”

“I never get sick Jane, don’t be absurd.”

Rolling her eyes, she took off her jacket and put it on the banister.

“I’m not your Mum.”

Shooting a glare at him, she shook her head. Obviously, Sherlock was unwell. But it was beyond him to admit when he didn’t feel quite good. His mistake.

***

The next morning, Jane came downstairs in one of her striped sweaters and jeans. Looking over at Sherlock who was looking into his microscope, she pressed her hand against his forehead.

“Uh oh, looks like you caught a fever.” She said as Sherlock batted her hand away.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You have a fever, I swear. Just lay down.”

“No.” “Sherlock, I know more ways than one to get you on that couch. Sit. Down.” She said threateningly.

Sherlock grumbled before flopping down on the couch.

“I’m going to take your temperature, put this under your tongue.”

Glaring, but compliant, Sherlock huffed a breath before doing as she wished.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Taking it out, Jane nearly had a heart attack.

“You have a 39.4 temperature! Why were you looking into that bloody microscope?!” Jane asked, hands on hips.

“Experiment.” Sherlock muttered.

“Well that’s going to wait until you’re better.”

Marching over to the microscope, Jane pulled the plug on it and put it in the safest looking cupboard she could find. Going to her medical kit, Jane dug out some medicine.

“Sherlock, take some medicine.”

“No.”

Facing the couch, Sherlock curled into a ball.

“Yeah, cause that’s gonna keep you from taking medicine you berk. Now take this medicine, or I’ll give it to you the way I did stubborn patients in Kandahar.”

When Sherlock didn’t answer, Jane rolled up her sleeves.

“Easy way or the hard way. Either way, you’re taking the medicine.”

“I’m not taking it. I’ve always done fine without it.”

Popping her knuckles, Jane loomed over him.

“Fine. Given me no other choice ‘cause you’re as stubborn as they go.”

Within five seconds, Jane forced his mouth open, shoved in the medicine, put her hand over his mouth and pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing him to swallow. Gagging it down, Sherlock conjured the darkest glare he could muster at her.

“How on earth did you become a doctor?”

“I _did_ warn you. You’re lucky you know, I used to sprain some of my patients arms if they got to rough.” Jane smiled, pouring him some tea.

“What kind of doctor are you?” He muttered grouchily.

“A pretty good one, I must say. Drink, it has antibiotics.” Jane directed him, handing him a mug.

Scowling, Sherlock quietly sipped it.

“Really though Sherlock, why don’t you take medicine?”

“Don’t like it, it slows my system.”

“True that medicine makes people sluggish, but you’ve got to take better care of yourself Sherlock. It’s bad enough that you barely eat.” Jane scolded him, sitting on the couch.

“I rarely am ill.” Sherlock explained, his teeth chattering.

Running to a cabinet, Jane pulled out several blankets and started putting them on him.

“You really ought to know better than to get cold.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re in your thirties and you’re saying ‘whatever’. Mature.”

Feeling his forehead, Jane cringed.

“You’ve got an awful fever. Is your head hurting?”

Nodding a little, Sherlock pulled a blanket over his head. Going downstairs, Jane knocked on Mrs. Hudson’s door.

“Morning Mrs. Hudson.”

“Morning Love, I’ve got the kettle on, would you like a cuppa?”

“That would be lovely, but I actually need your help. Sherlock’s very ill, and I need to get something for his headache.”

“Sherlock? He almost never gets sick.”

“He came in complaining when I tried to take care of him last night. I should’ve had him take some medicine last night.”

Eyes lighting up, Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips together happily.

“What?”

“Nothing dear. You just act so lovely sometimes.”

Laughing to herself, Mrs. Hudson went into her bathroom, leaving a confused Jane behind. When she came out, Jane laughed.

“You think Sherlock’s going to agree to that?”

Looking at the frilly pink sleep mask, Mrs. Hudson smirked.

“Only one I have. Besides, it helps when you have a migraine, and believe me, I get them.”

Taking some of the essential oils from Mrs. Hudson, Jane snorted.

“Are these the ‘herbal soothers’?”

“Yes dear, Marie got me some last Christmas.”

“Marie?”

Wracking her brain, Jane remembered that was Mrs. Turner’s first name.

“Right…”

Looking at the lavender oil, Jane shook her head. Going up, Jane noticed Sherlock had fallen asleep.

“We should do this while he’s still sleeping.” Jane whispered, dabbing some lavender oil on his temples.

Carefully slipping on the sleep mask, Jane bit back a laugh when Sherlock mumbled something in his sleep and turned on his side. Going into the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson and Jane cleaned up and talked.

“Thanks for helping clean up Mrs. Hudson.”

“Just this once dear, I am not a housekeeper.”

“Of course you’re not.” Jane affirmed, smiling.

“How are you getting on with Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson asked, tipping her chin up slightly.

“Pretty well I guess. I’ve never really had a lifestyle quite like this.”

“Oh that’s right, you served in the military. How long did you serve dear?”

“Technically I spent four years serving, three in Afghanistan.”

“Oh how lovely! Your parents must be so proud of you!” Mrs. Hudson grinned.

“Um…my Mother didn’t really…want me to go.”

“What an ambitious career though, Jane!”

“I know. I think that’s why she didn’t want me to go.” Jane said darkly, drying a beaker.

“Had a bit of trouble with the family dear?”

“Yeah.”

Giving a short answer, Jane focused on cleaning the table. Giving her an understanding look, Mrs. Hudson cleaned some silverware before opening the fridge. Six hours later, Jane noticed Sherlock was still sleeping. Frowning, Jane shook Sherlock awake gently.

“Hey, think you can down some soup?”

Noticing his fever didn’t go down, she bit her lip. Shrugging, Sherlock put his head on the pillows. Crushing the medicine into his soup, Jane brought some over.

“Here.”

Sitting up, Sherlock frowned at the sleeping mask that was now sitting on his forehead.

“When did this get here?” He asked blearily.

“It’s supposed to help with the fever.”

Shivering, Sherlock took the soup and sipped it before making a face.

“Not hungry.”

“Sherlock, it’s supposed to help you get better.”

“Not hungry.” He repeated, looking distastefully at the soup.

“How do you expect to get better? C’mon, eat it, or I’ll feed you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

Realising that she wasn’t joking, Sherlock grudgingly ate the soup.

“Feeling better?” Jane called from the kitchen after the medicine set in.

“Slightly.”

Noticing he’d returned to sleep, Jane stuck a hot water bottle under his feet and reapplied the oil.

“That should do it.” Jane said, stretching.

Hearing Sherlock’s phone ring, Jane answered and stepped out into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Oi, Jane, is Sherlock there?”

“Do you have a case for us?”

“Yeah, we need you two at the station.”

“Look, I’m sorry but can you just send us pictures of the crime scene?” Jane requested, keeping her voice down so Sherlock wouldn’t hear.

“Why not?”

“Sherlock’s got an awful fever, I’m afraid he’ll get worse if he leaves the flat.”

“It’s a triple homicide though!” Lestrade protested.

“Look, I’m sorry Lestrade, but the answer is no. When he’s better, I’ll let him know you have a case for him.”

Hearing Lestrade give a resigned sigh, Jane knew she had won.

“Fine. Minute he’s feeling better though.”

Hanging up, Jane’s phone immediately chimed, showing texts from the crime scene. Opening them on her computer, Jane started taking notes of everything she saw.

***

A few hours later, Jane noticed it was starting to get late. Irritated that she couldn’t find any clues, Jane rubbed her temples.

“It was the father.”

Hearing Sherlock mumble, Jane realized he’d been looking over her shoulder for quite some time now.

“Oh...”

Taking his temperature, Jane was relieved to find his fever had broken.

“You had Mrs. Hudson and I worried.” She said, handing him the laptop.

“Did I?” He hummed absently.

“Get us a cab Jane, we’re going.”

“But you’re going to get sick again!” Jane protested, sliding on her jacket anyway.

Going into his room, he came back changed out of his pyjamas.

“Sherlock, you need to stay home, you’ll get your fever back!”

“The game is on, come.” He said, sliding on his coat and scarf.

Leave it to Sherlock to solve a case immediately after an illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not advise going out to solve crimes the minute your' fever is broken. I like to imagine he got ill as soon as he stepped foot out of the flat. I hope you all enjoyed!


	12. Let's Play Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane offers a killer a deal she can't refuse...a good game of poker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...see any foreshadowing here? (Hint hint)

Under normal circumstances, Sherlock would have spoken his mind. But, with a Saxon broadsword under his Adam’s apple, he deemed that not to be the best choice of action.   
“How long did you know it was I?” The woman with the grey eyes asked him, her hand clenching the sword.   
“When I left your office, obviously. Who would ever expect you to find your way here?” Sherlock asked sarcastically.  
Truly, it was a clever spot to hideout. It looked like a normal house, just like all the others on the street. But, inside it was a concrete hideout, right under a highway. Leinster Gardens was what he last expected.  
“Aren’t you clever? Then, you know why I’m here…and now you.”   
He knew exactly why he was here. He had seen too much, heard too much. And now, he was about to become this woman’s dinner. Literally. He hoped Jane would have found this place. Although, knowing her, she would never find it, or expect it. If Sherlock did not, why would she?  
Giving a low chuckle, she turned her back to Sherlock, and sharpened her knife.   
“Perhaps, if you tell me where that girlfriend of yours is, I can make your death less…slow.” She suggested, smiling at him.   
Staring flatly at her, Sherlock searched for a way to escape. Having both hands and feet strapped to a chair did not make that simple.  
“I’m right here.” He heard someone say, and the sound of a gun clicking.  
Spinning around, the woman saw Jane emerge, her gun headed straight for her temple.  
“You need to let my friend go, or I will kill you.” She said evenly, looking at her with dead intent.  
“Are you not sweet? Sherlock, explain why she probably shouldn’t shoot in here.”  
“The walls are to narrow and close. There is too much steel, that would make the bullet ricochet.”  
It would risk her life, perhaps his. Frowning, Jane lowered the gun.   
“Ah, there’s nothing more I enjoy, than killing someone’s lover, in front of them.” The woman crowed, stroking Sherlock’s hair.  
Glaring at her, Jane put her gun away.   
“There’s nothing you enjoy more than gambling either, Mathilde.” Jane noted.  
Eyes lighting up, Mathilde let out a high chuckle.   
“It’s been too long since anyone’s called me by my name! My husband, really liked gambling.”  
“Then…you have cards…I have time. Let’s play poker.” Jane said casually.  
Poker? Was Jane mad? Raising an eyebrow slightly, Sherlock was trying to catch on to Jane’s plan.  
“Poker?? What’s the catch, Darling?”  
“You lose, you let Sherlock go. And, we get your hideout.” Jane offered, sitting on a chair.  
“Hmm, deal. However, I am extremely good. You lose, and I get to eat you, and him!”  
“Alright.” Jane agreed.  
Sherlock noticed a slight sheen of sweat on her hands, and knew she was not eager to begin the match. Using a crate as a table, the women began laying out the cards.  
***

“Was this…how you did it?” Jane asked quietly, picking up her cards.  
“Did what?”  
“Poker. With your other victims.”  
“Ah, yes. People just don’t play for long. I’m surprised you’ve been lasting this long.”  
“Thank you.” Jane replied, making a play.  
The game delved into silence. A quiet battle ensued between the two women, as they struggled to read the other person’s body language, movements, and expressions. It was a nice, risky game, with quite a bit at stake.   
As Sherlock mentally noted it was nearing three in the morning, he felt his shoulders slump in exhaustion as the game continued. At last, the game had ended.   
“I won,” Jane announced, sitting up. “Keep your promise.”   
Hands shaking, the woman wrathfully looked at her, desperate.   
“You didn’t think I’d win, did you?” Jane asked, backing up.  
“Of course-you won….you won.” The woman said breathily, rising.  
“Well, come on then. Keep your word. Let Sherlock go, and give us the hideout.”  
Taking a knife, the woman walked to Sherlock.   
“I’ll set him free.” She whispered.  
Knowing exactly what this psychotic woman was doing, Jane launched herself into the woman.  
“Don’t you dare!” Jane yelled, wrestling her to the ground.  
Feeling a stinging, burning sensation across her collarbone, Jane ignored it. With a growl, she pinned the woman to the ground.   
“Jane, she has a-”  
“-Gun, I know.”  
Slapping the woman with all her might, she watched the woman lapse into shock. Pulling her handcuffs from her back pocket, she handcuffed the woman.  
“Alright, we good?”  
Silent, the woman said nothing, only staring blankly into space. Shivering, Jane stood up. The woman was not in her right mind.  
“Are you alright??” Jane asked, hugging Sherlock tightly.   
“Yes-my wrists.” Sherlock winced, feeling the ropes burn into his wrists.   
“Sorry-hang on.”   
Pulling away, she took the woman’s knife and sliced the ropes off. Noticing the knife had blood on it, she looked down and finally noticed that from her collarbone to her chest she had a nasty gash.   
“It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches…” Jane said, feeling the cut sting painfully.  
“For now, let’s turn her in.”  
“And we won a hideout to…nice.” Jane said, looking around.   
“How did you find this place?” Sherlock asked.  
“It was a bit difficult. But I did look at the receipt and I knew where it was after that. After looking at the place carefully, I realised that the windows were painted, as well as the door. After that, it wasn’t too difficult.”  
“I underestimated you.” Sherlock said, helping the woman up.  
At the sudden compliment, Jane blinked in surprise.  
“What-sorry, I don’t think I heard quite ri-”  
“-You heard me fine. I’m not repeating myself a second time. Good job.” Sherlock said, before leaning down and giving her a kiss on her cheek.  
Watching Sherlock leave, Jane’s hand subconsciously went to her cheek. That was a very not-Sherlock thing to do. Was he feeling alright?  
As they walked down Leinster Gardens, Jane looked at Sherlock curiously.  
“You’re acting sort of odd today.” Jane said, smiling a little.   
“Am I?”  
“Yes. Are you tired?”  
“Hardly.” Sherlock sniffed.  
“You two-should just get married.” The woman said bitterly.  
Exchanging a look at each other, Jane sighed.  
“I’m not his date.”  
“Married to my work.” Sherlock replied, walking faster.  
***  
Turning her in, Sherlock and Jane made their way home.  
“Taxi! Taxi! Oh, come on!” Jane snapped when the third cab in a row would not stop.  
“They’re most likely finishing their shifts.” Sherlock sighed as they shuffled exhaustively home.  
“You realise we’ve only had five hours of sleep the past three days?” Jane asked.  
“Three days?”  
“That’s how long it’s been. You haven’t even shaved.” Jane pointed out, nodding at the stubble on Sherlock’s face.  
“Or showered.”  
When she wrinkled her nose, Sherlock chuckled.  
“I’m starved. Do we have anything at home?” Jane asked him.  
“Nope.”   
Sighing, Jane pulled out her phone and pulled up a GPS.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Searching for a place to eat. I’m starved.”  
“You are not malnourished.”  
“Shut up, and stop being cheeky.” Jane snapped grouchily.   
Typing in a 24 hour diner, the two headed in. Ordering food, Jane wolfed down her food.  
Sipping coffee, Sherlock’s dark circles were even more evident in the fluorescent lighting of the diner.  
“You’re looking as rotten as I’m feeling.” Jane yawned, eyes throbbing.  
“Mn.” He mumbled as he put his head on the table.  
Finishing her food, she looked at him.  
“Are you asleep?” Jane asked him, poking his cheek.  
Mumbling a little, Sherlock’s deep breaths indicated he fell asleep.  
The next thing she remembered, was being shaken awake.  
“I’m sorry, but could you both go home?”  
Realising she fell asleep, Jane bit her lip.  
“Sorry, I’ll pay up, and we’ll go.”  
Apologising profusely, Jane helped her half-awake friend and they headed out.  
Finally getting a taxi, they drove home. Leaning on Jane, Sherlock immediately fell asleep on her shoulder.  
Leaning against him as well, Jane rested her eyes until the driver told them they were home. Getting through the door, the first thing Sherlock did was kick his shoes off and crashed on the couch.  
Pushing her arm chair to Sherlock’s, Jane made a makeshift bed and laid down, wrapping her flannel blanket around her. She was too tired to even go upstairs.

***  
“Should I even write up this case?” Jane debated.  
“It’s your blog.”  
“Sherlock, I am asking your opinion.”  
“Probably shouldn’t mention the fact that we have a hideout. Or that you actually requested it if you defeated the cannibal.”  
“But that is the best part of the story! I saved you, and got us a hideout!”  
“What would you do with a hideout?”  
“What would you do with it?” Jane countered.  
“Plenty of uses?”  
“Like…?”  
“You’ll find out in time, I suppose.” Sherlock replied.   
“Of course.” She said, returning to her blog.   
"Where did you learn poker?" He asked suddenly.  
Smirking, she continued typing.  
"My brother. Harry got off on it, and taught me when I was little. In University, I picked it up again, and played a great deal in the military."  
"Did you?"  
"Yep. You play poker?"  
"A small amount." Sherlock lied.  
Truth be told, he had never played poker in his life.  
"Well, then someday we're going to need to have a one-on-one sometime, eh?"  
"Perhaps."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it turns out Jane's quite the poker player. Perhaps I'll write about them having a poker match, as well as Cluedo.


	13. Deadly Tealights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to crack a case in 36 seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reading John's Blog at work, and I thought that this would be a fun thing to write!

Sitting on her armchair, Jane sighed as she watched the rain.

“Doesn’t it ever get tired of falling every single day?” She griped, making Sherlock raise an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware rain had human sentiment.”

“Sherlock.”

Rolling her eyes, she flipped open the paper. Sighing, he picked up his violin and started working out a tune. Hearing his mobile buzz, he put down the violin and answered.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Ah-he-hello. Is this th-the Sherlock Holmes?” The man on the other line stuttered.

“Yes.” Sherlock tersely responded, sitting on his chair.

“ _What is it_?” Jane mouthed, but Sherlock waved off her question with his hand.

“You got to come-my-flatmate-he’s-he-”

“-Dead, and you wish for me and my assistant to come and take a look.”

“Yes-please come, my address is 23rd Whitney Ln, 306, please-h-hurry!” He wailed before hanging up.

Getting up, Sherlock went to get his coat and scarf. Tying up her shoelaces, Jane rushed to get her jacket.

“Murder?”

“Yep.”

Going out into the rain, they quickly hailed the taxi, and went to work.

***

“My name is Scott Bevan.” He sighed, as Sherlock and Jane looked around the house.

“What was your flatmates’ name and occupation?”

“Tim Leng, he was a yoga teacher.” Scott tiredly answered.

“When were you aware he had passed away?” Sherlock continued.

“Just-an hour ago.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock looked supremely amused at something.

“The police are already here though. Why contact us?” Jane asked him.

“Because I read your blog. He seems to know what he’s doing.” Scott replied.

“Where is the victim?” Sherlock asked him.

“In the bath.”

“The bath?” Jane asked, scowling as Scott showed them the bathroom.

“Er-she might feel uncomfortable because he’s not dressed.” Scott paused at the door.

Rolling her eyes, Jane pushed past him. She was a doctor, and had seen plenty of autopsies and naked people to last a lifetime. Looking around the room, Jane smelled essential oil, and the faint smoke smell of candles. Looking around, Sherlock actually began to laugh.

“What?” Jane asked.

“Did he really need to contact us? This is so easy, it’s almost disgusting.”

Pointing out a damp patch outside the bathroom, he then walked to the balcony, and opened it to find towels drying over the edge.

“And there, is your murder weapon Jane.”

“How can he have been killed with wet towels? There’s no sign of asphyxiation!”

“Watch and learn.” Sherlock said, winking at her.

Going back in, Sherlock smiled at Scott and the main officer.

“Well?” The policeman asked him.

“Your flatmate likes long baths. As does mine. So, he goes and has a bath and lights all his candles. It's a small bathroom with no ventilation. Wet towels are taped around the door frame from the outside - there's a tiny bit of tape still here. The flames from the candles use up all the air and he slowly suffocates. Just like falling asleep. The wet towels are removed and the murderer contacts me because he thinks he's cleverer than I and wants to show off a bit. Which I can understand. I like showing off. Who doesn't?” Sherlock announced, smirking.

Paling, Scott backed up a bit.

“I-I don’t-he-” Stammering, Scott looked for an excuse.

“Officer, I think I’ve said all there is to be said. Good day.”

Following him, Jane shook her head, as she scribbled notes down.

“What’s that?” Sherlock asked her.

“Oh-notes for the case.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to write it up later.” Jane explained, as Sherlock hailed a cab.

“Why? It’s not even long enough for a paragraph.” Sherlock asked as he held her door open for her.

“Because, it’s amazing! You looked around for like, 40 seconds, and explained it in about two minutes!” Jane exclaimed, sliding in.

“I solved it in 36 seconds. It was simple. Don’t write it up.” Sherlock said.

“Why don’t you want it written up?”

“It’s one of the easier ones.” Sherlock complained.

“Alright, fine, fine. One day though, I’ll write it up behind your back.” Jane teased, nudging him in the ribs.

“Don’t you dare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since St. Patrick's Day is this Thursday. (My favourite holiday), I want to write a special for it. Hopefully, I will complete it in time. Thank you for reading!


	14. SPECIAL--Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane gets a visit from very old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I managed to get the special written! I hope you enjoy this one!

“Found anything yet?” Jane asked, reading the paper.

“No,” Sherlock grumbled as he scoured over the papers as well.

“Here’s one, a missing Yorkshire dog…last seen two days ago.”

Looking up at her as if to say: _Are you serious_ , she put her hands up.

“Hey, we’re grasping at straws right now.”

Hearing her phone buzz, she looked down.

“Might be a case.” Answering it, Jane’s mouth fell open slightly.

“Ted?? I-what-how did you find this number??” With a splitting grin, Jane walked into the kitchen. 

Putting down the paper, Sherlock looked in her direction. He had never heard of ‘Ted’. 

“No, no I’m not that busy-really?? Hey, I would love to see you and Stella! It wouldn’t be a problem. Look, have you got a pen and paper?” After chatting for a few minutes, Jane hung up the phone. 

“Well? An old friend?” Sherlock said expectantly. 

“Yes! A very old one! He’ll be coming over in a few days!” Jane chirped, beaming.

“You’re in a good mood.” He observed. 

“They’re that good?”

“Oh, they’re great! You’ll love them. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Who are they?”

“Stella and Ted. We keep up sometimes over my blog, but I haven’t seen them in ages. They’re flying in from Dublin in three days.”

Humming, Jane went back into the kitchen to make them tea. 

_She really was that excited…they must have been close_. Sherlock thought to himself. 

***

A few days later, Jane was pacing back and forth, as Sherlock was working with his microscope. At every sound, Jane would stop and look at the door. If it was not a knock, she would look fairly disappointed, and continue pacing. Fed up with her constant pacing, Sherlock finally stood up.

“I need you to fill in a data chart, sit down.”

“You just want me to stop pacing.” Jane said knowingly, but sat down all the same.

After twenty so minutes, Jane heard a rap on the door. 

“They’re here!” She squealed, and got up.

Racing down the stairs, Jane smiled as she opened the door.

“Ted!”

The wizened man smiled at her, and pulled her into a hug.

“I’ve missed you, poppet.”

“Jane!!”

Looking over Ted’s shoulder, Jane saw the frail woman waiting expectantly. Hugging her too, Jan e grinned and stepped back.

“Thanks for coming you guys. I’ve missed you.”

“Ah, is that the Sherlock Holmes you’ve been writin’ about?” Ted asked gruffly, staring at the man at the top of the staircase.

“Yep.” 

“Oh, Jane he’s a handsome boy.” Stella whispered loudly, smiling. 

“Stella.” Shaking her head, she went up the stairs.

“We’re almost done with dinner.” 

“This’ll do good with it?” Ted held up his paper bag of liquor. 

“Thanks!” Looking inside, Jane took it to the kitchen.

“Ted Dempsey.” 

Shaking Sherlock’s hand with his rough one, Ted inspected Sherlock. Nodding at Ted, Sherlock looked over at Stella. 

“Oh, and I’m his wife, Stella. Good to meet you! Have ya been taking a good care of Jane?” She asked him. 

“Ah-certainly.” Sherlock answered shortly, caught off guard by her sudden question. 

After Ted sat in Jane’s chair, and Stella in Sherlock’s, the two pulled up chairs and settled in for a chat. 

“You want beer, Love?” Ted asked, offering Stella one. 

Giggling, she shook her head. 

“I’m alright Ted. So,” Turning eagerly to the two, Stella started smiling. “How long have the two of you been dating?” 

Coughing, Sherlock choked on his drink. Thumping him on the back, Jane turned to Stella. 

“No-no. No, we, um, we’re not dating. I actually am already dating someone else.” Jane explained, turning beet red.

“Oh.” Looking dissatisfied, Stella gave a sad little sigh. 

“He a nice man?” Ted asked her. 

“He’s great.” Jane answered despondently. 

Giving an inward sigh, Sherlock shook his head. If she was clearly not satisfied with the relationship, why did she let it continue? Sometimes, he didn’t understand her.

“What’s the boy’s name?”

“Steven.” Sherlock replied. 

Shooting Sherlock a look, Jane shook her head. 

“Sanford.”

Laughing, Ted smirked. 

“Haven’t seen ya since University.” Ted said, sipping his beer. 

“I know. I enlisted, and spent nearly a year in Brighton, and went on to Afghanistan after that.”

“Really? I thought you’d gone to Iran.” Stella exclaimed. 

“Nope. I served there for three years as an on field medic.” 

“Ooh, that sounds dangerous! Why did you get sent back then?” Stella asked her, blinking.

A dark shadow seemed to loom on Jane. Quiet, she seemed lost in her thoughts. At long last, she sighed before replying.

“…I ah, got shot in my shoulder.” 

Eyes widened, Stella exchanged looks with Ted. 

“Was it serious?” 

“No, no not at all. I got it in a training session. Some poor greenhorn accidentally shot at me. ”

“I bet he felt just awful!” 

“Yeah.”

Sherlock knew straight off that Jane was lying. Whatever had happened, was not an accident. But, why would Jane tell this elderly woman, when she wouldn’t (Couldn’t?) even tell him. Patting her arm, Stella smiled softly. 

“Well, I’m just glad you’re home, safe and sound. ”

“Thanks.” 

Soon, dinner was ready, and the four sat down to eat.

“Jane, I was cleaning up the house, and guess what I found in your old room?” Stella asked, taking a bite of brisket. 

“What?” 

“Your old Cardiff Blue’s hat.” 

Laughing, Jane shook her head. 

“You’re joking!”

“You used to live there?” Sherlock asked casually, but secretly was dying to know. 

“Yep. During the summers in high school, I had internships at a hospital in Dublin. So, I’d stay with them.” Jane explained.

“Was like having our little girl back, really!” Stella gushed. 

“She died.” Sherlock alleged. 

Opening her mouth slightly, Stella stared at him, while Ted slowly lowered his fork.

"How...did you know?" Stella asked in a small voice.

"I didn't. I saw." 

. “…Yes. Our two boys, as well.” Ted finally answered heavily. 

“Yes…ah…Jane said you deduced things. How did you come to that?” Stella meekly asked.

“You treat Jane closer than a daughter, slightly overprotective, and have a paternal urgency to care for her. You have had a daughter before, who was near her own age.” 

Eyes downcast, Jane picked at her food. She did not want to dissuade Sherlock from observation. But this was…a touchy subject. When she had come to stay with them, their children had passed not long before Jane arrived.

“Hoo-hoo! You two must be Ted and Stella!” 

Looking up, they saw Mrs. Hudson entering the room. Moments later, Stella and Mrs. Hudson were chatting away like old friends. When Jane tried to clear the dishes, Stella tutted at her.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been able to clean up after you! Go on, go talk with Ted and your special friend!” 

Looking at her ‘special friend’, Jane and Sherlock sighed. She was overjoyed to see her old friends, but she had forgotten that Stella was so exuberant and insistent about certain things. She was very different from her husband. As they sat down again, Ted pulled out a cigar. 

“You mind?” 

“No, it’s okay.” Jane answered.

“So…injured by a greenhorn.” Ted quietly said, lighting a match.

Quiet, Jane watched as he took his first drag.

“Heard it from your Da. He thought he’d never see you again.”

Eyes darkening, Jane picked at a piece of fluff stuck on her jeans. Watching the two, Sherlock’s interest peaked. He rarely heard mention of Jane’s father at all. 

“…That’s rich. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“He’s still your Da, Jane. Of course he’d worry.”

Biting her lip, Sherlock knew she was about to say something, but thought better of it.

“I know you and my Dad get on okay. But…we’re just another story. I wish that wasn’t so…but, what can you do?” 

Agreeing, Ted turned his attention to Sherlock. 

“And what about you? Get on with your father?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock answered shortly. 

Truth be told, he hadn’t seen them in a few years. It wasn’t that they did not get along. In fact, they were as well as can be. He preferred a visit every few years all the same. He was not one for family. 

After another hour or two of talking, Stella and Ted decided to go. After warm hugs, and ‘hope to see you again’, they were gone, and Sherlock and Jane had the flats to themselves again.

"They were quite...chatty." Sherlock said.

“True, they do talk a lot. Thanks for putting up with it though.” Jane laughed, flopping into her chair. 

“No…it was interesting.” 

Laughing, Jane looked at him and started laughing again. 

“ What?” 

“Nothing. I just expected you to say ‘Oh. Family, friends, dull. Predictable’.” Jane mimicked his booming voice, and laughed more when his scowl deepened.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Yeah, you do. Why was it interesting?” 

“I never knew you lived in Dublin.” 

“A lot of things you don’t know.” 

He wanted to. But of course, he would never admit such a ridiculous thing to her. Standing up, Sherlock walked to his room. Emerging again, he brought his violin. Unlatching it, Sherlock put some music sheets on the stand and started playing. This was one of Jane’s favourite times of day. When (occasionally) there was peace, and only the sounds of Bach drifting in the cigar smelling air. A good note, for a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching "The Sign of The Four" and I just kind of wanted to write something on Ted and Stella. They are Irish, so I supposed it would do well for St. Patrick's Day. Anyways, happy St. Patrick's Day everyone!


	15. Petri Dish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all started over a petri dish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this prompt from akatsukipotatoekun to have a worried Sherlock, and this was the result.

Jane had to admit, every now and again it was good to see Harry. It was a warm day, and she had just gotten back from taking Rose to see her Dad. Curious to find out about the case's result, she quickly sent Rose home before hurrying into 221B.

"Mrs. Hudson, where's Sherlock??"

"He went on a case about an hour ago! Said he'd be back soon!"

"Oh..." Disappointed, she went upstairs.

Frowning at all of the slides and experiments on the table, Jane shook her head slightly before going to click on the kettle. As she passed the counter, she accidentally bumped a petri dish, smashing it to the floor.

"Blast..." She muttered, looking at the badly damaged dish, which had a sample on it.

"This is bad..." Checking the number on the sample, she dialled it.

She might as well pick up a new one before Sherlock returned.

"Thank you for calling Brock samples and company, how may I help you?"

"Hi, I was wondering if 007-87F is in stock."

There was a pause, and a muffled sound.

"And may I ask whose calling?"

"...Dr. Bailey." She lied, giving her mother's maiden name.

Somehow, she had a terrible feeling about this.

"I'm afraid the next available one will arrive in 4 months."

"I can't wait that long sir! Is there somewhere else I can go?"

"Now, now, we have some samples that are for viewing only. We can make an exception for you, however. It will cost you a pretty penny."

"How much?"

"1,000 euros." Blanching slightly, Jane looked at the broken dish.

Sherlock bought something so expensive?? Moreover, she had broken this highly valuable sample.

"Will you get it?"

"Um-yes. Address?" After receiving the address, Jane grabbed her gun, and went downstairs.

"Mrs. Hudson, if Sherlock is back before I am, try and stall him!"

"Why??"

"I accidentally broke his petri dish, and I want to get him a new one."

"That's lovely, but how long do you plan to be gone?"

"I'm not that sure, but if I'm gone longer than twenty-four hours, let Sherlock know by then."

And out the door Jane went.

***

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock returned home.

"Jane! I have a lead, we need to-where's Jane, and she’s not home." Sherlock observed, noticing that her jacket was gone.

"Sherlock! She stopped by, but had to go out on a couple errands..."

"Very well. Mrs. Hudson, take some coffee upstairs." He said, going up.

"Actually Dear, I-I-need you to do me a favour!"

"A favour?" Sherlock echoed.

"Yes."

"Jane is running them. Besides, this case is rather important, I hardly have time to do something as trivial as errands."

"But-she needed to her own errands-and I forgot to ask her for one!" Mrs. Hudson floundered.

"Call her then! She has a phone you know!" Sherlock snapped.

"She accidentally left it here!" 

Right there, Sherlock knew something was wrong.

"You are acting odd. Where is Jane?"

"Where's...Jane?" 

Rolling his eyes, he went upstairs. He would find out where she went.

"Jane wanted me to keep you out for a while, so why don't we just-"

Realising she had let that slip, Mrs. Hudson put a hand to her mouth. 

"She-accidentally broke something-and went out to get a new one."

Looking in the bin, he pulled out his broken petri dish. 

"She'll only be gone for a bit, and she felt quite sorry about this!"

Reading out the code on the back, Sherlock dropped the dish back into the rubbish bin.

"That _idiot_!! She is going to get herself killed!!!" Sherlock suddenly bellowed, running down the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, he whirled around again.

"How long ago did she leave??"

"A-about a half hour ago! Is anything wrong??" Mrs. Hudson asked concernedly.

"She never thinks these things through." He growled, and ran out the door.

***

Every mile the cabby took her, the worse she felt about this. The entire place seemed eerie, and...Not quite right. It would be a waste of time and money to return now, however. She had a mission, and Jane Watson would not back out of doing something for Sherlock. 

"Oi, the roads getting kind of bad, so I'm gonna let you off here, I'll knock off some money."

"Thanks...could you wait ten minutes, please?"

"Sure..." He muttered, looking just as uneasy as she felt.

Getting out, she drew in a breath before walking. As soon as she was a little ways ahead, the cab sped away. 

"Hey!! Wait!!"

No backing off now, Jane would have to complete her job. Looking at the large, looming building, it might as well had the term sketchy across it in black paint. Opening the door, she made sure they couldn't see her gun, and kept her eyes on all entrances. "Oh hello...you are Dr. Bailey?" 

"Er...yes. I'd like to inspect the sample before I buy it." Said Jane coolly. 

As soon as he pulled it out, she gave it a once over, she nodded. 

"Looks fine, thank you." she said, taking the sample and slapping down the money. 

Backing further towards the door, she opened it and stepped out. 

"There's no bus station for three miles. Get her." She heard the man say to people who apparently had just come in.

Heart thrumming, she sped away. Pulling out her phone, she dialled in Sherlock's phone number. When he didn't answer, Jane cursed and left a message. 

"Hi, this is Jane. I'm three hours from London, and probably going to end up on a ship to India, or in a ditch. So, if you don't hear from me in the next few hours..." She whispered, before hearing footsteps. "...Have to go." 

Hanging up, she scrambled up a tree. Looking down, she saw two very strong looking men holding guns. This was pretty bad. When they walked away, she looked around. Perhaps if she could hot wire a car, and get out. Or should she risk going on the road? They would look for her there, however. 

"There she is! _Shoot_!" 

When they started firing, she fell out of the tree, and army crawled to a nearby van. Whipping out her gun, she loaded it. 

"Any closer to me, and I will kill you both!" She yelled, firing a shot near them.

Apparently, there was a third. Getting grabbed from behind, the man put her in an arm lock and lifted her off the ground. Kicking him in the groin, Jane was released.

"Just pipe down!!" Another man yelled, kicking the gun out of her reach. 

Grabbing her by the hair, another man shoved her face into the grass. 

"Just shoot her!" 

Hearing a loud thwack, Jane's hair was released. Backing up, she saw Sherlock there. Getting her gun, she knocked out one of the men by the butt of her gun, and kicked another in the knees. Soon they were all unconscious. 

"Sherlock, what are you doing here??"

"Getting you out of her!" Sherlock said, fixing her with a dark glare. 

"Are you hurt?" 

"I'm fine, we need to leave now." 

Grabbing her hand, he dragged her away.

"Sherlock, I can run alone!" She snapped, breaking into a faster sprint. 

"We need to stay in the taller grass,'" Jane told Sherlock as they went near the road.

"I know that!" He snapped.

"Don't you think we could call the police?" Jane suggested. 

"Who needs the police? Besides, if we but this place, I'll lose the whole bloody case! This is the only lead I have!"

"A case!" Jane exclaimed breathlessly.

"This was a case?! How come I didn't know?" 

"Developed since this morning, the banking fraud, turned to be drug dealership." 

"What?"

"I'll explain, we need to keep going." 

After running for an hour, they finally found a small town. Red faced and winded, the two leaned against a building, catching their breaths. 

Buying them some water, Sherlock practically threw it at her. He was mad. Jane knew it. He was pissed off that she went off to a dodgy place to go get him a sample. 

"Listen, I didn't know that this was-"

"-We need to go look into some archives. Since we're here we need to look around." Sherlock interrupted, walking away.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes was indeed angry. Ducking into an alley, Sherlock grabbed Jane and put her behind him, waiting for some particularly suspicious men to pass by. Still, he said nothing to her. After sneaking into a building to get papers, they walked a little ways until they finally found a bus. Because of the small size of the town, it was of no surprise that they were the only ones on it. Sitting three rows ahead of her, Sherlock continued to blatantly ignore her. Twitching her jaw slightly, Jane shook her head and looked out the window. Once they arrived in London, they switched into a cab, and were driving home. 

“So…I understand why you are…upset.” Jane began, saying the speech she had been reciting in her head for hours. 

“And, I understand that you lost your only lead, and I am really sorry.”

Jaw twitching, Sherlock angrily looked out the window, ignoring her.

“Can you please say something? I feel as if I am talking to a wall right now.”

“Humans can’t be walls.” 

“It’s a metaphor Sherlock.”

“You did something completely idiotic. Jane, first off you thought such a plan could actually _work_!! I also had more than that small amount of drug. AND YOU THREW YOURSELF INTO A DANGEROUS SITUATION WITHOUT ANY THOUGHT.” Sherlock’s voice raised at the end, his eye twitching. 

There went the lid. Looking completely outraged at his outburst, Jane shot back.

“How was I supposed to know you had more of the sample? And tell me, how did I throw myself into that? I just walked in to get the stupid sample that was it! Just calm down!” 

“THERE WHERE SIGNS JANE!!! IT WAS AN ABANDONED WEREHOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. NOT A NORMAL PLACE TO MEET. YOU CAB DRIVER MOST LIKELY WAS ANTSY AND PROBABLY LEFT IMMEDIATELY! IT WAS OBVIOUS!”

Apparently Sherlock had no intentions of calming down.

“Yeah, he did take off on me! So _wha_ t was I supposed to do then?? A. Go into dodgy warehouse? Or B. Go to dodgy town? My options were kind of limited at that point _Sherlock Holmes_!” Jane snapped, anger bubbling. 

Huffing, Sherlock redirected his attention to out the window. 

“While we are at it, _here_.” Shoving the petri dish at Sherlock, Jane shook her head.   “You might as well take it, since I went through considerable trouble to get it.” 

Fingering it momentarily, Sherlock slipped it into his pocket. Thinking of how grave her situation truly had been, Jane shuddered slightly. 

“I could very well have ended up halfway to China by now.”

“Then it is a good thing you are so stupidly clumsy.” 

“How so?” 

“You didn’t even clean up the glass on the floor, and tried to have Mrs. Hudson of all people be your confidant.”

“I was in a bit of a rush.” Jane admitted.

“In any case, I would have been at loss for a partner.” 

“I should've known that's why you'd be upset. But, thanks for coming after me. However annoying the fact is, you're right. I shouldn't have done that, regardless if it was for you. So..I’m sorry.” She admitted she was wrong. 

Unsure how to answer this, Sherlock simply nodded and pulled it out his wallet. 

“What’s this?” She asked, as Sherlock presented her with some money. 

“For the Petri dish. I understand it must have cost you.” 

“Sherlock, no. I am not taking your money.” Jane refused. 

Giving her a look that clearly said _‘Take it, because I’m not putting it back in my wallet._ ’ she grudgingly accepted the money.

“I'll know if you give it back.” Sherlock remarked as she put it in her jacket.

“Naturally, you will.” Hesitating slightly, Jane leaned in and gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek. 

“Thank you.”

Blinking rapidly, Sherlock just stared at her.

“Ah, yes. Well, I am going to study this sample.” He floundered for words, as he pulled out the dish. 

Laughing under her breath, Jane shook her head.

“Study away, Sherlock.”


	16. Battle of the High Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all started when Sherlock implied she was short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter I posted in "The Game of Treachery" was pretty dark, so I decided to throw in a fun one for today! And this may or may not be based on a true story...

"Hey! Lestrade said we have to give it back, so give it up!" Jane snapped, snatching at the knife.  
"No, I still need it." Sherlock stubbornly said, pulling the knife away.  
"For what?? You've used it for ages, now we have to get it back c'mon!"   
"I'm not done yet!" Sherlock argued, as Jane moved in.  
"Well you are now." Jane said, grabbing it from him.  
Grabbing it back, Sherlock glared at her.  
"You're acting like a bloody child!" Jane yelled.  
"And you're the size of one." Sherlock retorted, holding the knife over his head.  
Eye twitching, Jane snatched the knife out of his hand.  
"Are you implying that I am short?"  
"I'm not implying anything, I'm saying it."  
Clenching the knife, Jane felt like stabbing him right now. Turning on her heel, Jane went down the stairs.  
"Where are you going?" Sherlock called after her.  
"What do you care?" Slamming the door, Jane left.  
Shrugging, Sherlock returned to his work.  
***  
Returning, Jane smirked. They were uncomfortable, and hard to walk in, but every now and then, it was good to be a bit obnoxious.  
Hearing a stumbling sound of click-clack, Sherlock looked up and rolled his eyes.  
She did it. Jane Watson now owned a pair of painful looking heels.  
"Well," She asked smugly. "What do you think?"  
“They look rather uncomfortable.” Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow amusedly.   
“Do they? They don’t really that much.” Jane said, her eyebrow also raised.  
“I thought you didn't like heels.”  
“I haven’t had a pair before, so I’m going to try.”   
Checking her wrist watch, Jane turned to the door.  
“I said I’d pick Rose up from sch-WAGH!” With an undignified cry, Jane tripped and fell down.  
Sighing, Sherlock watched her get up. She wouldn’t last a day in those. He genuinely was uneasy for this woman’s safety. 

***  
The stubborn woman held to her guns, as the phrase went. Wearing them from the time she was downstairs and by the time she went to bed, Jane Watson tirelessly wore them.  
“I hope she’s going to be okay…” Clara hummed under her breath.  
“Why? Aunt Jane likes them!” Rose piped up, looking up from her homework.  
Snorting in disagreement, Sherlock continued to type on his blog.  
“Doesn’t she?” Rose asked, peering at Sherlock curiously.  
“I have an inkling that Sherlock perhaps said something that he shouldn’t have.” Clara said fiercely, her grey eyes boring into him.  
“I can’t help it if the doctor has the patience of a bull.” Sherlock said, clacking down on the keyboard.  
“Only with you.” Clara said under her breath.  
“Listen…whatever you said, you probably should apologise.”  
“What did I say?” Sherlock asked absently.  
“Obviously something, or Jane wouldn’t be clonking around in those!”  
“I bet you said she was short.” Rose guessed.  
“Brilliant deduction Rose. I should start taking you with me on cases.” Sherlock drawled sarcastically.  
“Really??”  
“No.”   
Disappointed, Rose continued her work. 

***  
Even on the case, Jane still wore the heels. Sherlock noticed her smile was becoming more forced, and her steps slower. After three days, she was finally starting to run down. When Sherlock suggested to walk part of the way home, Jane’s shoulders slumped.  
“Walk…?”  
“Yes. You said your shoes were quite comfortable, so let’s do that, shall we.”   
He then watched Jane delve into a silent battle. Give up and get the cab anyway, or hold out and walk. Apparently her stubbornness knew no end.  
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”   
Walking, Sherlock sighed.   
“So-an eventful case, huh?” Jane said, limping along.  
“Yes.”   
“When we get home, do you just want leftovers or takeout?”  
“I don’t care.” Sherlock said, noticing when she tripped over the sidewalk.  
“Ok.”  
Patience snapping, Sherlock took her by the shoulders and steered her to the park bench.  
“Sit.” He told her, forcing her to sit down.   
“What-why?”  
Taking off her left shoe, then the right, Sherlock threw them in the rubbish bin.   
“Oi! What are you doing??”  
“Throwing them away. Obviously.”  
“You don’t get to make that call whether I keep my shoes or not!” Jane yelled at him.   
“I just did.” Sherlock expressed, eyeing her.  
Glaring at him, Jane kept walking.   
“Thought I was an idiot for keeping them on?”  
“Yep.”   
“Prat.”  
“Yep. And stop walking.”  
“Why?”  
“You sprained your ankle walking in those ridiculous shoes. You’ll make it worse, and that will be annoying to deal with.”  
Rolling her eyes at him, Jane waited for him to stop a cab. Once they were in the cab, Sherlock propped her foot up on his lap.  
Sulking, Jane looked out the window.  
Once they were home, Sherlock picked her up bridal style.  
“I can go up the stairs by my bloody self!” Jane indignantly argued.   
“No.”  
“Don’t just ‘no’ me, put me down!”  
Setting her on her chair, Sherlock got her a compress and handed it to her.  
“I’ll do the next case alone. You need to heal your leg.”  
“You’re a serious arse, you know that?”  
“Yep. And you’re a stubborn berk.” He said back at her.  
After exchanging icy stares, Jane was the first to lift the corner of her mouth.  
“Guess that makes us even then?”   
“Yep.” He grinned, as she teasingly shook his hand.


	17. Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane finds out something new about Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the chapter is here! I'll have more time to get in writing in a few weeks.

"JANE PUT SOME TEA ON!"

"WE RAN OUT!!!!" Jane shouted up from upstairs.

How could they have run out of tea? Jane always kept it well stocked, so it was unusual. Going up the stairs two at a time, Sherlock flung open the door and if he hadn't looked down then he would have run into a small child. Blinking at the little girl who returned his blank stare, Sherlock looked over at Jane.

"Yeah, sorry, Rose decided to make tea, and used up everything."

The girl had a rather…distinct resemblance to Jane….

"I didn't know you had a child." Was all he could say.

"I don't. But I do have a niece. I presume I should introduce you to Rose?”

Scrambling from under Sherlock’s feet, she happily offered her hand.

“My name is Rose Cynthia Watson, nine and a half. Pleased to meet you.” Not waiting for a handshake in return, she resorted to running about the flat in a mad spree of joy and excitement.

"Why is this-this child in our flat??" Sherlock asked, for once missing the quietness and peace of the flat.

"Clara had a job interview in London so I offered to watch her."

"For who long exactly?" Sherlock asked warily.

"For-ever!!" Rose yelled in a sing song voice before jumping on the coffee table before skipping to the couch and jumped up and down.

"Ah, no." Picking her up, Sherlock placed her back on the ground and stared at the evidence.

"Just until later tonight. Alright you, Mrs. Hudson has some cartoons downstairs if you want to watch those."

Grinning, Rose nodded and hurriedly descended the stairs.

"Very prudent of you to mention we were expecting a child here." Sherlock said curtly.

"Yeah. Know what's also 'prudent'? When you don't tell me when you've left the crime scene and I have to spend three hours looking for you. That's always real convenient."

"Petty revenge, not telling me about this...juvenile."

"Rose is not a war criminal you know! She’s just a kid, honestly!"

While she couldn't picture Sherlock liking children much, Jane was surprised at just how much Sherlock didn't seem to like her.

***

After Rose got bored with the movie halfway through, Sherlock and Jane brainstormed on ways to entertain her.

"Alright, we need to figure out dinner."

"I'd assume leftovers."

"I threw them all out." Jane sighed.

"What, why? They were perfectly good."

"Yeah until you forgot to seal the spleen all the way in the baggie! It dripped all over the fridge and I had to throw out _a lot_!" Jane snapped at him before scratching her head, thinking.

"Chinese? Angelo's?" Sherlock started throwing out suggestions.

"No, Rose is a picky eater. Hates Chinese, and we don't know when Clara will be coming back so we can't take her anywhere. Hmm....oh!" Jane snapped her fingers.

"Go downstairs and try and get some spaghetti noodles, I think we have some tomato sauce, we'll just have pasta!"

After a long struggle to get dinner on the table, Jane heard her phone ring.

"It’s Mum, I have to take this call. Sherlock, tell me when Clara gets here." Jane ordered, before resignedly answering her phone.

"So, just you and me!" Rose chirped, looking around the flat.

"Hm. I suppose so." Sherlock sniffed, going to the kitchen.

“Well, it’s _not_ a suppose, it’s ‘you sure are’! I thought you liked me!” Rose chattered, following Sherlock.

“I never said I liked you.”

“Then you like my Aunt Jane, don’t you?” Rose teased him, nudging his ribs.

Ignoring her, he pulled a jar out, plunked it open and fished a preserved thumb out onto the cutting board.

"What's that??" Rose asked, peering curiously over his shoulder.

"A right handed thumb, which I have soaked in acid for further studies.”

"Oh neat! Could I help?" Rose pleaded, dragging over a stool and sitting next to him.

"I suppose. Take the scalpels, and we have gloves in the sink. I doubt Jane would be please if I let you handle the species without proper equipment."

"Well, how come you don't have any equipment on you?"

"Because I am well practiced in the finesse of experimentation and you are not."

"Oh. But I once dissected a toad at school!”

“This is different.”

“Well, what do we do first?"

“You can start by carefully squeezing out the fluid.”

After demonstrations of dissections, Sherlock returned to his case, doing his best to ignore the girl's prattling.

"-And it's really exciting to be here, because it's obvious Aunt Jane likes you!"

Blinking, he looked over at her. "Sorry?"

"She likes you! Most of the time, she doesn't like too many people! But she really likes you!"

"Interesting."

"Yeah! And I bet she's not having her bad dreams!"

"Her dreams."

"Uh huh. When Aunt Jane first came back, she lived with us. And she used to take this awful medicine for her wound, but it always made her nightmares worse and she'd scream and cry during them. Mum said we weren't allowed to wake her because it'd hurt her, but it was really scary." Rose commented solemnly, laying upside down in Sherlock's chair.

"I see."

"You're really lucky to have her as a flat mate!" Rose laughed, picking up a book.

“Am I?”

“Bet she nags at you to do stuff and fusses over you when she worries.”

“Nonsense. She does simply what needs to be done.” Sherlock dismissed Rose’s predictions and picked up his violin.

“Nah. She does that kind of stuff when she likes people.”

***

As the dusky sky turned to a dark purple, Clara entered 221B.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes! Oh I do hope they weren't too much trouble!"

"Hardly."

"Mum! How was it?" Giving a strained smile, Clara licked her lips nervously.

"It was good." She said softly, running her delicate but strong fingers through Rose's hair.

"Clara!" Jane said, coming over.

"Oh, hello."

"How'd it go?"

"Um...I think it went well." Clara said unconvincingly.

“So, not to good then…I’m sorry Clara.”

“It’s not the end of the world. I have to get off of Harry’s support at some point, right? I need to, or I may have to-I will get this finalised Jane. We will move here.” Sighing sadly, Clara shook her head.

"I best get to our hotel. Say goodbye, Rose."

"Bye Sherlock! It was so cool killing a thumb! Can I see you again??" Rose gave Sherlock a tight hug as she talked.

"If it deems necessary." Removing her arms from him, Sherlock gave a curt nod.

"Bye!" Clara gave a last goodbye and led Rose out. As Clara was asking what Rose meant when she said 'thumb', the door closed.

"Well, wasn't torture was it?" Jane grinned over at him when the door closed.

"Children are dull." Sherlock answered facetiously.

Raising her head as if she knew a secret he didn't, Jane smiled.

"What?"

"Hm? Oh nothing, I just think you're funny is all."

"Funny?" Sherlock echoed.

No one had ever called him that. Obnoxious, yes, antisocial, yes, but funny? Never.

"Yea. You, Sherlock, amuse me." Jane chuckled, getting on her phone.

"How so?"

"Well what's the fun in telling? If I do, you'll stop doing it." Annoyed that she was right, Sherlock huffed.

"We're out of tea."

"Yea, I noticed. You gonna get us some?" Jane asked dryly.

"Why?"

"Because I got the tea last time, so it's your turn you prat."

"Fine." Sherlock half whined, and slid on his coat and scarf.

"And pick up some biscuits!" Jane called after him as the door slammed. When she was certain he was gone, she whipped out her laptop.

_Sherlock Holmes is a funny man. No, he doesn't really mean to, but he makes me laugh. The morbid jokes he makes, the dry sarcasm. Funny that for so long no one else has thought though._

_I know he's surprised I think he’s humorous by the way he took a double take when I told him he was. Sherlock told me children are dull to him, which I know to be a complete hoax. He finds them endlessly fascinating, like me. Children, they are so innocent, young, and yet some of them while they act innocent to life know so much. They are naive and yet, there's something about them that sparks Sherlock's interest._

_Perhaps of how trusting they can be, or how they look at Sherlock the way I do. They see an amazing man, a brilliant one. Where others see freak, I see a genius. Where others see snobbery, I see a wall. And that’s some new thing I've learned of Sherlock today._

Fingers hovering over the ‘post’ button, Jane shook her head at the last second and drew back. This was borderline romantic. She wasn’t that sort of blogger, and did not feel that way in the first place. What was she thinking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She doesn't feel that way". Alright, sure. Hopefully I'll have more time to crank out some more shorts!!


	18. Filing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a day of filing, stealing buses, and angry Lestrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a few weeks, my life will be a tad less hectic, and I will try to get the next part of my installment in. Until then, enjoy this story of their shenanigans.

“This is where we keep all of our files.” The secretary said, opening the small room.

It smelled like coffee, stale smoke, and mildew. Taped boxes were everywhere, and a thick layer of dust covered everything.

“Th-thanks,” Jane stammered, taking off her jacket. 

“This could take a while.” 

“It’s no problem. Just mind you there are security cameras, so please don’t take anything, or look around. Here’s the key.” The secretary replied, handing her the key.

Sighing, Sherlock looked around. 

“They probably have it organized by year. And we’re looking for 2006, right?” Jane asked, looking around. 

Deducing the boxes, Sherlock kept a close eye on the age, quality, and brand.

“None of these are marked by year.” Sherlock said, opening the oldest box there.

Looking at the dates on the varied papers, they found that they were nearly all marked from 1990 all the way to 1999. And worse, none were in order.

“They aren’t alphabetically marked!” Jane cried, looking at the documents.

“I’m sure there aren’t many Oliver Smith’s in here.” Sherlock said sarcastically, as he looked at them all. 

There were 9 boxes in total. And in each, were an estimated 800 documents.

“Well, we could take care of all the crates of books,” Jane said cheerfully.

“I’m sure we’ll find it in no time.” 

But as the day waned on, so did their enthusiasm. By the time they were only on the second box, they heard the office closing up, and shouts of farewells. Exchanging hopeless looks, Jane’s shoulders hunched as she sorted through file after file. In one of these boxes, Oliver Smith’s name was, but there were thousands of documents. If they skipped over even one, they could lose the whole case. By the fifth box, it was three in the morning. Sleeping in the corner, Jane startled awake, when she heard a jubilant _‘aha!’_

“I found the name Smith!” Sherlock shouted.

Scrambling over, Jane took the paper. Then, her face fell. “Orlando Smith. That’s not Oliver.” 

So far, they had found 32 people with the same last name. Growling in frustration, Sherlock crumpled it back into the box. As they continued to search, Sherlock’s mind suddenly went back to what the secretary had earlier said. 

_“….there are security cameras, don’t look around…”_

Opening the door, Sherlock looked out into the hallway. Dead silence.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” Jane asked tiredly.

“The toilet. And just picking up something to eat.” Sherlock said, picking up the keys.

Jane immediately looked suspicious. 

“You _never_ eat on cases.”

“Some coffee sounds very well, I think.” He said airily, stepping out.

Opening and closing the bathroom door so she’d think he went in, he went over to where the secretary’s desk was. She had still been working at the travel agency when Oliver had gone missing. Looking at the security camera, he noticed it moved. Someone was here, watching them. That would mean he’d have to be extra careful. When the camera looked over at the filing room, he snuck to the desk. Stooping, he looked at the filing cabinet. Taking out a picklock, Sherlock unlocked it. Opening it, he searched the documents. 

_Travel Insurance, Pick up and drop off, Insurance, Barcelona, Ireland, U.S., Scotland,-Oliver Smith!_ The secretary had it all along. Of course. Reading the document, Sherlock tried to make sense of it. _Oliver Smith, had last gone to Italy in August 5th, 2006._ Frowning, he looked it over again. _Oliver Smith, Italy._ It didn’t make sense. 

Hearing the security camera move, he saw it was focused on the desk. Hiding behind it, Sherlock tried to think of a way to get it to move.

“Sherlock? Where are you?” He heard Jane call softly.

Hearing her footsteps, Sherlock closed his eyes. She was going towards the desk.

“Jane, go back!” He hissed.

“What? What are you doing there??” Jane asked, hurrying over.

“Stop being an idiot and get away!” Sherlock whispered loudly. 

“An idiot?? Well I’ll have you know I found Oliver Smith!” 

“What?” 

Poking his head from under the desk, Sherlock saw that she was holding a piece of paper in her hands. 

“Why are you hiding there anyway?” 

“And didn’t Sandra tell you two not to snoop around?” A deep voice said.

Jane looked over to a big man standing behind her. 

“Ah-sorry. I was looking for Sherlock. We weren’t snooping.” 

“Really? Then what’s this?” He asked, taking Jane’s paper.

“Hey!” She protested.

“You were told not to take away anything!” The big man yelled. 

“Sorry, but-” Hearing the sound of a gun, Jane looked at the ceiling.

“Of course.”

“Hands up, both of you.”

Swapping dark looks, Jane and Sherlock held their hands up slowly. Taking the file on Oliver away from Sherlock as well, he nonchalantly motioned his gun at them and the back door.

“Now follow, c’mon.” Leading them out, he handcuffed them, before making them get into the trunk of a car.

Once the car started, Jane and Sherlock immediately got their picklocks out.

“Of course it’s the security guard that is the undercover worker. That is not cliché in any form.” Sherlock huffed sarcastically.

“Honestly though,” Jane replied. “You’d think people would get creative.”

“What did you find about Oliver?” Sherlock asked, undoing her handcuffs.

“They said he travelled to Spain in August 5th, 2006.” Jane replied. Stopping, Sherlock frowned. 

“Spain? That can’t be right.”

“Why?” 

“Because, mine said he went to Italy.” Rolling over so Jane could undo his handcuffs, Sherlock continued talking. 

“Besides, Lestrade said he was last seen in France on August 5th, 2006.”

“So how can he be in three places at once?” Jane queried, taking off his handcuffs. 

“Precisely.” 

“Bet he’s the Doctor in disguise.” Jane sniggered. 

“What? No, he was an engineer.” Sherlock answered, confused. 

“Never mind. We’re nearing some sort of docks.” 

“Excellent. I bet they’re taking us on the ship of Tilly Briggs.” 

“Good. What do you want to do?” 

“I have a plan.” 

“Does it somehow involve me getting my gun back?”

“If we don’t kill him in the process.” Sherlock responded in all seriousness. As the car rolled to a stop, Sherlock pushed Jane as far into the trunk as she could.

“What are you doing?” She asked. 

“In case he starts shooting the moment he pops the lid.” As the lid opened, Sherlock kicked him in the face.

As the man doubled over in pain, he hit him across the back. As the man fell unconscious, Sherlock rolled him over. Reaching into his coat pockets, he extracted the papers on Oliver Smith and Jane’s gun.

“Thanks,” She said, pocketing it. 

Looking over at the docks, Jane gripped Sherlock’s arm. 

“They’re leaving port!”

“I have an idea.” 

Running after him, Jane nearly rammed into him when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

“What-?” She asked as he eyed a bus. 

“You’re not going to…?” Jane watched as Sherlock gave his classic devilish smirk. 

“Sherlock Holmes, we are not about to go steal a _bus_!” 

“Yes, Jane Watson, we are.” As he broke into a run, he seized her hand, taking her along. 

“Oi! You nearly broke my arm!” She complained, digging her heels into the ground. 

Running into an alley, he watched as the driver stopped.

“Need to borrow your gun.” Sherlock grabbed her gun, and ran for it.

Cursing under her breath, Jane charged after him. Kicking open the doors, Sherlock pointed the gun at the man.

“We need to borrow this, we will hopefully return it in excellent condition, now please get off.” Sherlock rapidly spoke as the man stuttered and hurried off.

“We’re truly sorry!!” Jane shouted after him. 

Without warning, Sherlock stepped on the brakes, sending Jane sprawling back. 

“O-oi! Watch it Holmes!” Jane snapped as she struggled for something to hold onto.

Ignoring her, Sherlock turned a sharp left, knocking her back down. Glaring, she looked behind them. 

“Sherlock!! There’s someone about to shoot at us!”

“It’s most likely that guard that brought us here.” Motioning her over, Sherlock passed the gun over. 

“You can handle him.” 

“We are not in a James Bond movie, I’m not about to go off and start firing off on some bloke while we’re in a _moving car_! Stop being so stupid!”

“Then we’re just going to have to lose him.” After numerous sharp turns, Sherlock and Jane found the docks.

“Okay, stop the bus now Sherlock!” Jane nervously ordered, noticing how close they were nearing the water. 

“I-I can’t!” 

“What D’you mean ‘you can’t’!?” 

“Something is off on the brakes!!” Noticing crates, Jane reached over Sherlock and turned.

“Then we’re gonna have to cushion the blow!” 

_Crash!_ Running into the crates, they were thrown forward. Jane wasn’t quite sure if she had gone unconscious or not. When she opened her eyes though, a paramedic was there, and the strong smell of fish, burnt rubber, and metal.

“Can you hear me?” He asked clearly. 

“…Yes. What-what happened?” 

After going through standard tests, and let off with a warning of concussion, Jane ran into Lestrade.

“Where’s Sherlock?” Jane asked, panic rising in her chest. 

“Is he okay??”

“He’s fine. Having a little trip in jail though.”

Closing her eyes, Jane shook her head.

“Jail??” 

“I was pretty sure I said somethin’ along the lines of ‘not getting’ carried away’.” Lestrade muttered. 

Looking at the crashed bus, the busted crates of fish, blood, a melting laptop, and a dead body, Jane shrugged sheepishly. 

“Sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!!” Lestrade roared, exhaustion evident in his eyes. 

“Look, you two are gonna be on probation until this is all sorted. Dun even think of showin’ up at Scotland Yard until I say so!!” Lestrade yelled. 

*** 

After getting shouted at by Mycroft, and a phone call from his mother, Sherlock was set free. Sitting in the cab with Jane, Sherlock wearily slumped.

“ ‘Let’s steal a bus, you said. It’ll be fun, you said.’” Jane grumbled, her lack of sleep in the past two days seeping into her voice.

“We caught him though. Besides, you can mark this off as one of the ‘crazier’ things you’ve done.”

Remembering one of their first conversations, Jane barked out a laugh in spite herself. “True…true.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty, could you blame Lestrade for being upset?


	19. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Sherlock have a date. But who said it'd be with each other?

"Sorry Sherlock, but Sanford and I have a date tonight. I probably won't be back till late."

Looking out the lace curtain, Sherlock looked down at Sanford with something akin to disgust.

"Late?"

"Yeah, I'm stopping by his house after the movie. He needed help with some documents."

Sherlock bet he needed help.

"I'm sure he's perfectly capable of going over those _alone_."

"Oh and you are?" Jane laughed at the irony.

"You are always badgering me or Molly to do these sorts of things for you!"

She had a point. Frowning, Sherlock watched the impatient Sanford.

"What time do you imagine you'd return?"

"Hm...Maybe 11. If I end up staying over I'll give you a ring."

That didn't reassure Sherlock.

"Eat something will you?"

And with that, Jane went down the stairs. Glaring as Sanford gave Jane a kiss, he went to work on his blog. What business was it of his what his flat mate chose to do with her time? He really could care less. After working for a solid hour, Sherlock tried to ignore the lagging feeling of boredom. Sighing, he clacked away at his laptop. Hearing the door open, his first thought was Jane. But hearing the small patter of feet, he knew it was not.

"Sherlock!" Watching the door swing open, Sherlock petulantly watched Jane’s niece skip in.

"Not you again. And knock." Sherlock said, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

"That's not too polite." Rose huffed.

"Says the one who barges into other people's homes."

"Says the one who barges into my Aunts bedroom and steals her laptop."

Touché. Apparently Jane had been gossiping to Clara as of late.

"What do you want?" He asked her.

"I'm bored. Mum is workin' late, and Mrs. Turner's got an awful headache. If I even tiptoe, she yells at me!!" Rose complained.

"And why would you think to come here?"

"'Cause I like you."

"Really?" Sherlock huffed sarcastically.

"Yeah, 'cause you treat me like a _grownup_. No one seems to do that." Rose whined, looking around his flat.

"And, I need you to help me with my homework! I've got a lot of science, and I haven't done it."

"I don't have time for children's rubbish."

"Please??? I promise I'll always knock on the door, and tiptoe up the stairs, and won't poke around. Please??? Please??"

"No." Rose changed tactics.

"Then I will poke around and stamp up the stairs! And then I'll tell my Mum that you let me dissect a human thumb."

"Blackmail. Charming."

"Oh c'mon! You'll never regret it if you just helped me with these teensy meaningless problems!!"

Sighing in resignation, Sherlock shut his laptop.

"Fine. Let me see." Taking her homework and textbook, Sherlock looked over the problems. Reading over the chapter, Sherlock had to chuckle at some problems. It was amazing that children learned anything from school. Whoever was deemed worthy to write this ought to have been sacked. They didn't even delve into what a mitochondria actually was.

After pointing out what paragraphs she needed to read, Sherlock looked at her other schoolwork. Spelling, English, History. Reading over the history section, Sherlock was quite displeased about how very little they delved into Oliver Cromwell. It was a miracle that children even knew how to read and write with the quality of these books.

"I don't get it!" Rose wailed when he tried to explain the difference between a simple sentence and a compound.

"I'm not the one who constructed the English language. Read the instructions again." Sherlock sharply said.

"But I did! It makes sense when you tell me!"

"I'm not an encyclopaedia."

Exhaling through her nose, Rose grumbled as she scratched out the answers.

"I'm hungry..." Rose grumbled when the clock strikes nine.

Realizing he was getting peckish himself, Sherlock got up and opened the fridge. Finding the leftover meatloaf (why Jane made this, he'd never know), Sherlock threw it into the microwave. After eating the lukewarm meal, they set back to work. After Rose finally understood the English, it became more peaceful. She happily worked away, stopping every now and then to use the toilet or eat a biscuit. Sherlock allowed himself to think of Jane. He wondered what she was doing right now. Hopefully actually writing up documents. He didn't exactly want to reflect on the alternative situation. Towards ten, he got a call from Lestrade. Getting up, he answered. Not even worth leaving the flat.  A hit and run and the only evidence was a dead cat, tire marks, and the woman's left side badly bruised. After scrolling through the pictures, Sherlock rolled his eyes. Couldn't even Scotland Yard ever pick up on simple cases? Rattling off the facts, Sherlock paced back and forth. Hanging up, he remembered Rose was still here.

Hearing her deep breathing, Sherlock realized she'd fallen asleep. Picking her up, Sherlock set her on the couch. Picking at her laces, he eased her feet out of them, before finding a woollen blanket to put on her. Once she was settled down, he sat down in his chair. At 10:38, he heard the door swing open. Going down the stairs, Sherlock saw Jane and Sanford enter.

"....really sorry. If I-" Seeing Sherlock, Jane cut him off.

"-don't worry. It's okay. Just....glad you could get all of your documentation finished up!"

Ah. The slightly guarded tone Jane had, and the almost apologetic manner Sanford seemed to hold. Her hair slightly dishevelled and the cautious distance she stood from him, Sherlock read between the lines. An advance was made, that Jane did not want. "A-anyways, er, good night." Sanford said, kissing her on the cheek before taking his leave.

Once the door was closed, an uneasy silence filled the room.

"Pleasant evening?" Sherlock asked, breaking the quiet.

"Er-yeah." Jane said, her mind elsewhere.

"You're home early." Sherlock continued as she discarded her coat.

"Yeah." Jane sighed, rubbing her temple.

"Shall I make some tea?" Sherlock suggested.

"Oh please." Jane smiled gratefully at him, unlacing her shoes.

Noticing Rose on the couch, Jane curiously glanced at Sherlock.

"Babysitting are we?"

"She came over." Sherlock shortly answered, turning the kettle on.

"And had homework? Blackmailed you into it." Jane sniggered.

"...Yes." Laughing, Jane shook her head.

"Oh she's Harry's kid alright. When we were little, he'd always hold blackmail over me and John. Always thought he'd do well, working for the tabloids." Nodding, Sherlock poured her some tea.

Sipping it, Jane tried to ignore Sherlock's inquisitive gaze. Finally, she set her mug down. After checking to see if Rose was truly asleep, Jane sighed.

"Why don't you just tell me what you know, and I'll correct you if you're wrong."

"Sanford did not have documents to sort through. It was an excuse to have you come in." Looking down, Jane sighed.

"Yeah. I mean, there was one or two. I actually thought we did have documents."

"Oldest trick in the book. It's _spectacular_ how you survived the military, being so obtuse." Sherlock snorted.

"What-?!" When Rose murmured in her sleep, Jane took great pains to lower her voice.

"No. I _knew_ when soldiers were making those sort of passes on me. But Sanford?? He's a gentleman! He wouldn't trick me into getting me into his bed!" She hissed.

"But you didn't think the same thing about Moriarty when he was supposedly Molly's boyfriend, did you?" Sherlock instantly regretted saying that.

"Jane, I didn't-"

"Fine. You're right. I'm stupid when it comes to men, alright? I was stupid in college, and I'm stupid now. That what you were looking for? Hm?" Jane angrily smiled.

Hanging his head in contrition, Sherlock stayed silent.

"However, Samuel was good enough to bring you home."

"Yea, he was." When Sherlock started chuckling, Jane frowned in confusion.

"What?" His chuckles going to high pitched laughter, Jane's cheeks flushed. When Sherlock got Sanford's name wrong, she didn't correct him.

"Sherlock-" Clutching his sides, Sherlock laughed even harder.

"Stop it you loon!" Jane hit his arm, face a bright Crimson. Hearing the door open, they heard Clara's footsteps.

"Is Rose-? Oh good, I couldn't find her anywhere!" Clara let out a relieved sigh.

Shaking her awake gently, Clara got Rose up.

"Mum...?" Rose asked sleepily.

"I'm here to get you home." Clara gently said, handing her the shoes.

"Thank you for taking care of Rose." Clara gratefully said as Jane packed up rose's schoolwork.

"Actually, Sherlock did."

"Oh??" Turning to Sherlock, Clara smiled.

"Why...thank you."

Shrugging, Sherlock went to his room. After Clara and Rose were gone, Jane breathed in deeply. Sherlock was rubbish at trying to cheer people up. But it worked, didn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, who knew Sherlock could be defeated by a 9 year old? And, was this some jealousy Sherlock had in this one? ;)


	20. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock demonstrates the saying: "Stubborn as a Mule"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt from iamthenightcowerbeforeme that asked "Can you write about Sherlock dealing with Jane on a period? How would that go down?" After two rewrites, this is the result.

_The man with the white sunglasses, and the missing tooth, had a slight abrasion on his right hand, and the green mark-it was Berkley after all!_ Snapping his eyes open, Sherlock looked up to see the cabbie driver glaring at him. Getting out, Sherlock paid the cabbie.

"We need to get back to the quarter, then track down Berkley's whereabouts. When we find him, we find the money." Sherlock declared, shrugging off his coat.

"Jane, get on the phone and text: 'I have the blue duck. Come to 121 Keller Ln. We will negotiate details.'" Sherlock instructed, pacing. When he heard only silence, he looked around.

"Jane, hurry up! It’s almost a matter of time before-Jane?"

He thought about it. It had been a very quiet cab ride. He then realised-Jane wasn't here. Did he leave her?? Or did she just say something about leaving?

***

Jane was so angry that she could just spit. He left her behind. While she was investigating upstairs, the foul git had actually left her. Took off, leaving her in this awful drug den. Oh, and conveniently took her gun and phone, because his had died. Hiding in the building, Jane watched through a crack. These men seemed like they meant business. Looking at someone who had steel knuckled gloves, Jane shuddered. She had to get out. The issue was, she stood out to much. Nice jeans, clean, good shoes. Sighing, Jane looked for some old clothing lying around, but found none. She now had two options. Go out there and try to get out alive. Or, wait for Sherlock to come and get there.

Angrily smiling, Jane shook her head. Sherlock left her. The chances of him actually coming back were small. Besides, she had not spent the good part of her career behind a desk. Many times before, during and after the army, Jane had succeeded in protecting herself. Getting up, Jane brushed off some dirt and stretched. She'd get out by herself. Running up to the third floor she looked out the boarded window. Pushing on the boards, Jane then inched herself out the window. Looking down at the far drop, Jane felt slightly ill. She could not allow herself to be afraid. Jane had to get out. As she belly crawled on the roof, Jane’s anger grew.

He left her. He left her in the most dangerous drug den in London. If Jane escaped alive, she was going to murder Sherlock. Standing up, Jane looked at the distance to the next roof. Stepping forward, her foot broke through the rotten boards. Crying out, she clutched at something, anything, to stop the fall. Nothing came. Crashing to the ground, Jane at first felt nothing but pain flood her systems. Once the breath returned to her lungs, Jane sat up slowly. Standing up slowly, she heard voices.

“What was that?” Hearing a man speaking in another language, Jane looked somewhere to hide.

As she was about to try and scramble up to the roof, the door was kicked open.

“Who’re you?” Striding up to her, the man she was assuming to be Berkley and a henchman cornered her.

“I…I…” Swiping at her, the henchman tried to grab her. Jane hurriedly ducked. The blow meant for her slender jaw flew by in a blur of knuckles. Putting her fists up, Jane struck the man’s eye, making him stumble back. Grabbing his shoulders, Jane kneed him in the groin with her knee. Feeling someone grab her from behind, Jane immediately pulled the perpetrator’s fingers backwards. When Berkley gave an agonised shriek, Jane stamped on the man’s feet. Jane then dashed toward the exit. It was the look that Berkley then gave her that sent a chill down her spine. A look that went from fury, to calm amusement. Pulling out his gun, he aimed it at her head. Jane forced herself to remain calm.

“What do you want from me?” Jane asked, putting her hands above her head.

She was unarmed, no place to hide, stranded. She had to do what he wanted for now.

“Where is your partner?”

“My partner?”

“Sherlock Holmes, where is he?” Berkley snapped.

“He left.” At this, Berkley laughed.

“He would not, you are lying! Who would leave their _lover_ behind in a drug den?”

In spite the situation, Jane wanted to laugh at the pure irony of this.Even a scummy criminal thought that was a low point.

“Sherlock is not my lover.”

“Where is he then?”

“He is most likely at home right now.” Jane explained calmly.

“And left you here to find the stash. I see.” Berkley growled.

“Stash?”

“The money I hid! You were in that building!”

“Ah. So it is in there, is it?” Jane heard Sherlock say.

Grabbing Jane, Berkley put her in a headlock and laid his cold gun on her temple.

“And what are you planning to do, once you’ve shot her? It’s over, Berkley.” Sherlock announced haughtily.

“Not yet. I can still shoot her!” Berkley yelled, sliding off the safety.

Closing her eyes, Jane felt something akin to fear. She could, once again, get her brains blown out. This seemed to happen often, now that she lived with Sherlock. Once a month or so, she would end up in this sort of situation.

“Scotland Yard is here. Unless you want to face a life penalty, I suggest you surrender.” Hearing the sirens, Berkley looked about wildly, before finally lowering his gun.

“Good choice. Jane, get his gun.”

As Scotland Yard hauled him away, Sherlock turned to Jane.

“Nice work.”

Eyeing him, Jane shrugged and turned her back on him.

"Jane-" When he put his hand on her shoulder, she jerked away.

"I don't want you to look, speak or touch me until I’m good and damned ready." She coldly said, stalking away.

***

It was a very quiet cab ride. Jane glared out the window, while Sherlock attempted to go into his mind palace. Every time he tried though, even the mind palace Jane ignored him.

"I wouldn't purposely leave you Jane," Sherlock said as Jane unlocked the door.

"But you did anyway!! Sherlock, I almost got killed! If I wasn't skilled in self-defence, I would have died!"

"Then why are you mad?"

"Why??? YOU LEFT ME!" Stalking up to him, Jane clenched her fists and yelled.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Apologise!"

"I don't apologise Jane. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Other than leaving me in a _drug den_."

"That was not my fault. You should have noticed I was leaving."

"I-" sputtering with sheer fury, Jane looked witheringly up at him. "-Was inside that god forsaken building, trying to find you! If it's anyone's fault, it's _yours_."

"You're overreacting due to your menstruation. Calm down."

Jane had never wanted to slap a human being as much as she wanted to in this very instant.

"I...am _overreacting_?! And it is none of your business what the state of my health is!"

"I notice details Jane, I cannot help that!"

Furious, Jane pulled on her jacket and turned back down the stairs. Hearing the door slam, Sherlock cringed. He would need to get this amended. But how without apologising? It was a simple misunderstanding that he was partially responsible for. Going up the stairs, Mrs. Hudson poked her head in.

“Really Sherlock, pointing out when a woman is ordering clams with red sauce is rather rude, don’t you think?”

“We…we’re not at a restaurant.” Sherlock frowned slightly.

“Dear, it means when a woman has that time of the month.” Mrs. Hudson hinted.

“Time of the…month?” Admittedly, Sherlock was lost.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Hudson looked up at him irritably.

“Period, Sherlock. Her period. That was a low point of the argument. And _leaving_ her in a drug den? Those places aren’t good places to be, and I would know! You need to apologise!”

“I didn’t mean-”

“-Women like having chocolate, pain relief, flowers…” Numbering off items on her fingers, Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock.

“Wouldn’t hurt in the slightest to buy those sorts of things.”

***

Going up the stairs, Jane felt slightly better. In pain from natural causes and the fall from the roof…but slightly better. The moment she looked at Sherlock however, her rage was rekindled.

“Hello.” He greeted her.

She didn’t ever remember him greeting her with traditional greetings. Saying ‘hello’ for that matter…was odd.

“…Hi.” Going past him, Jane saw a bunch of plastic shopping bags.

“What’s this?”

“I-there was-a sale.” Opening the bags, Jane let out a burst of laughter. Chocolate, a flower, tampons, aspirin, and a bizarre looking sleep mask.

“Um…thank…you?” Jane raised her eyebrows as she gingerly lifted the odd mask up.

“I heard it helps women…sleep…” Trailing off, Sherlock looked away. “And, you also fell from a great height, so-aspirin-alleviates the pain.”

She had never mentioned falling. Leave it to the great detective to figure that one out.

“Well…thank you.”

“I-had not realised that you did not join me when I left-ah-these hyacinths are for that purpose.” Sherlock spoke on when Jane curiously picked up two strange looking flowers.

Walking over to the window, Sherlock whipped open his case and pulled his violin out.

“Hey…thanks…for helping me get out of that thing with Berkley…glad we found the money. And for all of this stuff to.” Jane said, gathering up the bags.

It was weird that Sherlock knew exactly what to get. The fact that he actually bought all of this was rather suspicious.

“Out of curiosity, did Mrs. Hudson by chance have a word or two with you?” Jane asked him.

“Yes. She said it was demeaning to point out when a ‘woman is ordering clams with red sauce’?” Jane raised her eyebrows.

“What…what’s that?”

“I’m not sure. It was her way of explaining when-”

“-That’s…not a common term. I didn’t even know that was a term!” Jane shook her head and snorted.

She then remembered she was supposed to be angry at the moment.

“Thank you for the gift.” She stiffly said.

“I…yes.” Getting a coffee cup, Jane filled it with water and made her way to the stairs.

“Jane. I…did not intend to leave you there.”

“I know. Goodnight.” Jane nodded, heading to her room.

Setting the hyacinth in the water, Jane took her laptop out. Typing in the hyacinth, Jane found the flower’s meaning. The blue one represented constancy, while the purple one represented an apology. He literally bought her an apology flower. Shaking her head, Jane fingered a petal. Granted, it was a very Sherlock way to apologise for being stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has now beautifully exhibited what you do not say or do to a woman whilst on her period.


	21. Mother Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane's mother decides to pay a little visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologise for the confusion! I accidentally uploaded this chapter to Lies in Crimson, when I meant to post it here. Very, very, sorry.

Hearing the doorbell ring, Sherlock slowly looked up from his microscope. A long hold on the bell, and then patient silence. Today, this was not a client. It was not Rose or Clara. While Clara only knocked, Rose merely threw the door open without knocking. Who was it? Hearing the door open, he heard a soft voice ask:

"Hello, does a Jane Watson live here?"

Cautiously, he descended the stairs. The woman was small, delicate, and had pale blonde hair. When her hazel eyes met his, Sherlock knew exactly who this is.

"Hello, I haven't introduced myself," She smiled coolly. "I'm Jane's mother, pleased to meet you." Shaking her hand, Sherlock noticed how her smile was not in her eyes.

"Sherlock Holmes." Looking around dramatically, she ascended the stairs, sniffing at the creaky stair. "My...how darling this flat is." Looking at the flat with obvious distaste, she finally looked at Sherlock himself.

"It's so cosy." She commented airily.

Sitting in Jane's chair, she looked about. Hearing a knock, and then a door opening, Sherlock heard Clara come in.

"Sherlock have you seen-" Noticing Jane's mother, Clara's eyes widened as she stammered:

"D-Dolores, what are you doing here? Does Jane know you're here??"

"Clara!" Her mother squealed, throwing her arms around her.

"No, I decided to surprise her. Where's my little granddaughter??"

"At school..." Clara trailed off, looking at Sherlock worriedly.

Hearing the door open, Sherlock heard Jane's voice go up the stairs.

"Oi, I got some of those biscuits you like, they're on sale! Try to make them las...." Stopping at the door, Jane looked at her mother.

"Mum." Smiling superciliously, Dolores gave her a hug.

"That's all you have to say? I travelled for four hours!"

"I didn't know you were coming."

"Well, what's the fun in spoiling surprises? It's wonderful to see you." Stiffly, Jane backed away.

"We...don't really have room for you here."

"Oh, I know, darling. I am staying at a hotel."

"I see. And um...how long do you intend to stay?"

“Why a week of course!”

Blood draining from her face, Jane stared blankly back at her.

“A…week.”

“Yes darling.” Sighing, Jane shook her head.

“I can’t take off that much.”

“Last I heard, your job doesn’t have official hours.” Her mother’s voice grew dark and angry. Watching her face return to normal, Sherlock knew exactly what this was. A visit that was intended to make Jane do something.

“I want to see my little Rose, and your flat Clara!”

“Mum, let’s go out to eat tonight.” Jane said as she left. As soon as she was gone, Jane set out to cleaning the flat.

“Why’re you cleaning?”

“Trust me, you will thank me.”

“I don’t care what people think of the flat.”

“Nor do I. But you do not want to hear her complain Sherlock.”

Shaking his head a little, he helped her clean up.

“And we cannot let her in this kitchen, or she will throw a fit.” Jane insisted, putting things away.

***

Sherlock wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here. All he knew, was that he greatly disliked her mother. He could see all of the subtle insults thrown at Jane.

“Remember Tommy Green, Jane?”

“…Yes.”

_An old romantic entanglement judging by Jane’s stiff smile. He most likely left the relationship for another woman by the way Jane obviously showed discomfort at the sound of his name._

“He’s now married! Got married last spring!” Her mother cooed, smiling.

_A subtle hint of her mother’s annoyance at Jane’s matrimonial state._

“How nice.”

_Not nice, according to Jane’s almost angry smile._

“And what about you, young man? Are you dating?”

“Mum, that’s not really your business…” Jane mumbled.

“No. I am considered married to my work.” Sherlock replied.

“Your work? What is your job?”

“A consulting detective.” Raising an eyebrow, Dolores smiled through pursed lips.

“You work with the police?”

“No. They consult me.”

“Independent worker? How nice.”

“Yes.”

“Grandmum! I got a perfect score in Science! My teacher is having me show it at our science fair!” Rose piped up excitedly.

“Oh, really my little sweetums? Can grandmummy come see your science fair?” Dolores suddenly gushed, throwing all of her attention onto Rose.

Frowning, Sherlock watched. She was purposefully showing so much affection to Rose, and little to Clara. _Unhappy about divorce, believes Clara should have stayed, and is showing her disapproval by lavishing her granddaughter._

“Mum, did you know that John is expecting another baby?” Jane said, looking her way.

“Really? I didn’t hear about that.” Dolores raised her eyebrow, frowning.

“Yeah. They just found out actually.”

“You’ve seen John recently, right? How are they?”

“Oh, they’re good.” Jane said, smiling.

Tuning out of the conversation, Sherlock watched their body language. _What a dysfunctional family. It was no wonder Jane hardly spoke of it. Everything about Jane screamed trapped. Trapped in a family feud, unable to leave. Perhaps that was partly the reason she went to Afghanistan._

After dinner, Jane’s mother went to a hotel, and Clara, Rose, Jane and Sherlock returned home.

“Mum?” Rose called from the front.

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Grandmum seemed kind of mad.” Widening her eyes, Clara looked awkwardly at Jane before whispering to her daughter to be quiet until they returned home.

Great. That meant that it had to do with her. Sighing, Jane slumped slightly, leaning against Sherlock. Sherlock silently cringed at the scenario. He still was not sure why Jane’s mother insisted he went.

***

The next morning, Sherlock woke up when he heard clattering in the kitchen. _Mrs. Hudson…?_ He thought, rubbing his nose and sitting up. That was odd. She never came up until the afternoon usually. When they didn’t have cases, Jane was usually sleeping, so who was in there? He had a sinking feeling that he knew who was in that kitchen.

Throwing on his blue robe, Sherlock trekked out of his room. To his horror, his presumptions were correct. Mrs. Watson, was in the kitchen. And the kitchen, was spotless.

“Oh! Good morning!” She chirped in her soft and high voice.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking at the clock.

_Seven-thirty in the morning was much too early_.

“Cleaning this mess up, obviously. If there was one thing Jane has never been able to tolerate, is a dirty kitchen!”

_Jane really could care less if the kitchen was clean or dirty._

Looking around, Sherlock looked for his experiment.

“Did you throw out anything?”

“Well, of course! Look at how filthy it is. I cleaned up those beakers and glass jars."

“What??” Sherlock asked, stalking towards the sink.

Sure enough, all of the beakers and jars that had contained his studies on the preservation of the veins of cats.

“…I was studying something in that.” Sherlock said, clenching his fists.

Pursing her lips, Dolores looked at Sherlock.

“Oh Dear, I am so sorry. I really can pay for that.” Opening the fridge to get some milk, Sherlock’s hand stopped at a carton of Almond milk.

“What’s this?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Your groceries! Honestly, I do not know how you two live here!! All of your groceries were either unhealthy, or expired! I knew that you two were not eating quite right, when I saw Jane. Goodness, she has gained an extra pocket since the military.” Her mother prattled.

“Your daughter had an eating disorder. Of course she’d gain weight once she healed.”

_Did this woman not care that Jane had been in captivity? That she found happiness? Obviously, Dolores seemed to have a score to settle with her child._

“Mum…what is this?” Jane asked, coming in.

“House cleaning, Jane. This refrigerator is filthy! And as your mother, I am obligated to fix this!”

“I’m not a child Mum!” Jane raised her voice slightly.

“You act it. Why do you leave this place so filthy? It’s disgusting!”

“You-ransack our fridge, and call my flat disgusting??” Jane asked, outrage laced in her voice.

“Dear, I’m hardly blind.” Dolores laughed.

Embarrassed that Sherlock was witnessing this, Jane looked at her mother disdainfully.

“I need to get dressed.”

“Alright. I will cook us some breakfast.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Her mother hissed. Frowning, Jane turned around and started to walk off. “After all, I am your _mother_.”

***

_“Mum, you promised! At least one more bite.” Jane begged her._

_She hated this. Watching her beautiful mother waste away every passing day. To see her puking her insides out into the curtains, to sob over wine with a picture to her chest. To watch her turn her back on her own children when they so desperately wanted her._

_“I’m not hungry.” Giving a frustrated cry, 12 year old Jane jumped to her feet and ran towards the door._

_“You’re my mother!! You’re supposed to care!!”_

***

Swallowing against the grit that formed in her throat, Jane stormed off. Watching her leave, Sherlock looked at her mother. What she just said, was obviously something below the belt. When Jane came back down again, the only sound in the kitchen was the clinking of forks, and the sips of coffee and tea taken. Gagging silently at the taste of almond milk in his tea, Sherlock looked over at Jane. Eating her food, Jane gave no indications that she was upset or happy.

“I’ve been wanting to see Big Ben, and the London Eye. Remember when we all went to see that together? You might not. It was such a long time ago.”

“No. I remember.”

“Well, I would like to go! You can take your friend if you’d like.” Dolores said warmly.

“It’s okay. I’d rather go with just you. I’m sure you don’t mind?” Jane asked Sherlock.

“Obviously not.”

He really did not want to go sight-seeing with Jane and World War III.

“Then once we finish dinner, let’s get going, shall we??” Her mother squealed.

“Yeah.” As her mother finished, Jane pulled Sherlock away for a moment.

“I probably won’t be back until the evening. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Sherlock shrugged.

***

He spent the entire day at Scotland Yard. Looking over a hit and run victim, Sherlock’s mind kept roving in circles. Most likely her mother had been neglecting and emotionally abusive. He doubted physical. After hearing of John Watson, he knew that her brother would never have allowed a finger to be laid on Jane.

“…Sherlock, you listening?” Lestrade asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“I would look at her gardener.”

“The gardener?”

“Obviously. Look at her wrists, and the flannel shirt she was wearing. That woman’s gardener’s wife was having an affair with the employer. The gardener killed her out of rage.”

“Blimey, if you’re making this up!!” Lestrade exclaimed.

“You’re just saying that so I can tell you how I know. Go arrest him.” Turning on his heel, Sherlock walked away.

Bumping into Molly, She dropped her paperwork. Kneeling down to help her pick up the papers, Sherlock looked impatiently at the clock. Jane was probably going home soon.

“Sherlock, where’s Jane today?” Molly asked nervously.

“With her mother.”

“With-her mother??” Molly gasped.

“Yes. It’s not so uncommon for someone to spend time with their mother.” Sherlock dryly stated.

“Of course not-but that is rare for Jane I imagine.” Molly timidly say.

She knew she’d said too much when Sherlock glared at her. Handing her the papers, Sherlock cleared out. As she entered the morgue to clean up, Lestrade came in.

“Sherlock really had it this morning.” Lestrade complained, rubbing his stiff shoulder.

“He’s probably worried about Jane.” Molly sighed, putting away her papers.

“Worried? She sick?” “

No, her Mum is visiting actually!”

“That’s rare. I didn’t know if Jane had parents or not.”

“Probably not good ones, if Jane doesn’t talk about them.” Molly sighed.

***

“…Of course, you could have said something! I am your mother after all!” Sherlock was going up the stairs to hear Dolores shout.

“Because, I didn’t fancy having this conversation with you!” Jane cried.

“Well, you should’ve known it would have come up! I can’t believe you threw away your career, to go and be with this-this freak!!” Stopping, Sherlock knew exactly who Dolores was referring. From how many times he’d heard it in his life, he might as well have made it his first name.

“He’s not a freak. I made my _own_ decision, because that’s what I thought would be best.”

“First your job, next your love life.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything! You’re not getting any younger Jane! And you resigned yourself single and are now working with this freak!”

“Stop it! He’s not a freak, he is amazing! If you knew all of the fantastic things he’s said and done, you wouldn’t call him that!”

“Ah, there it is again. He’s ' _amazing'_. He’s bizarre Jane! I wouldn’t be surprised if he did raped or murdered you, strictly because it’d be interesting for him.”

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Taking in a deep breath, Sherlock came in. Going pale, Dolores looked at Sherlock.

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“-Any offense. Obviously not.” Sherlock said sarcastically. Looking as if she wished to disappear, Jane looked at the ceiling.

“I just would like to reinstate my intentions. I am married to my work. I have no intentions to woo your daughter. We are work colleagues and flat mates. Nothing more." 

“More to the point, there is no wrong in being single. After seeing a brutal marriage, why would Jane want to marry?” Sherlock asked her coldly.

“She-”

“-Will most likely never marry, due to you and her father.”

Angry, but not denying it, Dolores glared at him. The audacity this man had was astounding!

“I believe you’ve caused enough trouble for the day. I suggest you leave this flat, and come back tomorrow.” Collecting herself, Dolores looked coolly at both of them.

“I think not. I have had my fill of this. Jane, I will be leaving tomorrow morning. I doubt we will be seeing each other for a while.” She said airily.

Saying nothing, Jane just watched her.

“Well then, goodbye.” Turning her heel, Dolores went down the stairs, closing the door. Once the door was closed, Jane swallowed hard and sat shakily down.

“I tried…I tried so hard Sherlock.” She whispered.

“Tried, to _not_ fight, to _not_ stir up trouble. But apparently I can’t even do that!” Silent, Sherlock sat opposite of her.

“But…thank you. No one has ever stood up for me. Not with Mum.”

“You would do the same as well.” Sherlock said simply.

“Well…of course. Of course I would. I’m sorry you had to hear that. What she said, was awful. I want you to know, that I have never thought that, alright?”

“I know.”

“I wish you knew my Mum before she was like this. She was a pretty amazing woman before…”

Before the divorce.

“Why would anyone marry though?” Jane asked miserably.

“The human mind do odd things when it believes it is in love. They are willing to throw careers, peoples, and all common sense away when it comes to those things.” Sherlock said.

“I suppose. Or out of loneliness, or the desperation to marry.” Jane sighed.

“Hm. Did you ever consider marrying, Jane?” Surprised at the question, Jane was quiet for a minute. Bringing her knees up, she rested her head on them.

“Once. His name was David. I…I had dated around in college. Had a few guys. But, David was the first one that had Mum’s approval. I was different, I used to want that. Well, he proposed to me. But, in order to marry, I couldn’t be in the military. So I turned him down and we broke up.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Ever think of marrying?”

“No. I would never subject myself to it.”

“Neither would I,"Watching the grey skies, Jane looked at Sherlock from the corner of her eye. “It’s good to know I’m not alone in that aspect.”

As they sat, eating dinner and Sherlock was telling her of the hit and run victim, Jane’s mind kept floating to the events of today. Her mother and she had one of the largest rows in nearly seven years, Sherlock actually stood up to her mother, and they even talked of marriage.

She knew Sherlock would probably laugh if she said the only one she’d marry would be Sherlock. After all they’d been through together…all of the strife, the pain, the laughter. He was the only person she had ever met, who truly understood her. And she had no doubt it was the same for him. Although he would never know, she really loved him. She loved sitting across from him with their mugs of tea. She loved running, trying to catch a criminal. Jane even loved the hopelessly late and stressful nights they had that had no end. If she ever told anyone, the first question would be: "But what about poor Sanford?" 

She...honestly didn't know if she even loved Sanford. 

Then why am I with him? Jane thought to herself, as Sherlock drew the conclusion to the case recollection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to those who understand who I named Jane's Mum after.


	22. Evaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jane deal with after effects of a hard case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this chapter longing, but I don't think I can. Sometimes this is all you actually can write without milking it, I think.

Fists clenched so tightly they almost shook, Sherlock’s jaw tensed.  
“Let me at her!! Come on, she knows it’s her!! Shouldn’t have gotten the divorce Carol!!” Screaming obscenities at the sobbing woman, the man’s mouth foamed from rage.  
Holding Carol tightly, Jane refused to let the woman see the vicious site. The blood soaked corpse, her once charming and loving husband, now shrieking at her, a knife near his hand.   
“Lestrade…take him away.” Jane murmured in a low voice.  
Stroking the inconsolable woman’s hair, Jane rocked her slowly back and forth.   
“It’s alright…this isn’t your fault. You did the right thing…” Standing up, Jane made sure Carol didn’t see the gruesome scene.  
Sherlock tried to let air come into his lungs. They couldn’t get there in time. Couldn’t get there. They tried so hard…  
He didn’t even remember arriving at Lestrade’s office. Sitting, Sherlock stared at his hands.  
“Carol didn’t sustain any injuries.” Jane said at the doorway.  
When Sherlock stayed silent, without his usual remarks, Jane sat by him.  
“You…you did your best. We both did.” She said, putting her arms around him.   
“It wasn’t enough…”  
“Sometimes we can’t give that though. We never would have made it, Sherlock.”  
Pulling her into an airtight hug, Sherlock put his head on the crook of her neck. A three day case. Solved, but not without a disaster. And it was partially their own fault.   
“Shh. It’s okay. I have you.” Running her hands through his curls, Jane sighed and leaned on him.   
After what felt like several minutes, Sherlock pulled away.   
“Angelo’s?”  
“Yeah.” Sherlock agreed, following her.  
***  
Eating his spaghetti silently, Sherlock looked out the window, lost in his thoughts. Sipping the crap coffee, Jane traced patterns on the table.   
“Tomorrow, do you want to see how Carol is doing?”  
“I solved the case, Jane. I don’t have further business with her.”  
“Alright.”   
It had been a brutal case. She doubted he wanted to see anything that reminded him of the past few days. Yawning, Jane rubbed her eyes. Noticing her exhaustion, Sherlock hurriedly finished his spaghetti.   
Walking out into the brisk night, they walked slowly. Silently, Sherlock took her hand and continued as if nothing happened. Gripping his hand, Jane looked up at the smog filled sky. There were moments were the emotions ran deep. When there were no words for what happened tonight. Leaning her head on his shoulder, Jane tucked her free hand into his arm. Looking down at her momentarily, Sherlock continued his stride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What with Lies in Crimson and some depressing shorts I've been writing, I need to write a lighter one next, I think. Suggestions?


	23. Shall we Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a surprisingly good dancer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have noticed that I have been posting quite a bit of angst. So, here is some fluff. And when I say fluff, I mean a lot of fluff. :D

"Why not??" Jane demanded, traveling up the stairs after him. 

"Because, Jane, it's _stupid_! I'm not about to go and get rid of the last bit of privacy I have, over some stupid banker!" Sherlock snapped, throwing his coat and scarf over a sofa.

"Your privacy already went out the window after the aluminium crutch!" Jane retorted, crossing her arms. 

When Sherlock folded his arms as well, Jane stalked over to him.

"Besides, a man's life is at stake, and you won't do anything over your comfort??" Jane asked angrily, her nose flaring.

"Exactly! I refuse to do the case!" 

"It's just a formal party, it's not the end of the world!" At this, Sherlock turned on her.

"'Just a party?" He echoed. Angrily smiling, he thought for a moment, then turned back around. 

"If your Mother was having you do something, and when you did it, you'd be in her clutches for the rest of her life, would you still do it?" Stopping at this, Jane had to think of a retort.

"You won't be in his clutches, Sherlock. But if you really wish for a boy to be without a father, and for a life to be on your shoulders, fine."

"Guilt tripping never suited you Jane. Nor will it work on me." 

"It's not a guilt trip, it's the facts, you Loon." Shaking her head, Jane glanced at Sherlock, the disappointment obvious in her eyes. 

"It's alright. Forget the whole thing." 

"Where are you going?” Sherlock asked as she went down the stairs. 

"To talk to Clara, then call Mycroft." As she reached for the doorknob, Sherlock put his palm on the door. Giving an irritated huff, Jane waited for him to speak.

"Fine," he said resentfully. 

"I'll do it. However..." Looking down at her with a familiar look in his eye, Sherlock smirked. 

"You'll have to come with me." Refusing to look away from his eye, Jane nodded.

"Deal." 

*** 

"Oh Jane, that's so lovely!" Clara gushed as Jane uncomfortably stepped out. 

"Right..." Jane said, looking gingerly at her reflection.

The truth be told, Jane did not feel quite like Jane Watson tonight. She normally rejected makeup, hair, and things that took much effort in appearance. Tonight however, Jane looked nothing like that. Her hair fell on her shoulders in soft waves, her makeup much too flawless to be at her own hand. Looking at the long, periwinkle dress she wore, Jane frowned at her reflection.

"Is something wrong?" Clara asked. 

"No...Just not used to being prepped over like this." Jane huffed slightly. 

“You…don’t think to much of my back is exposed?" 

“No, I think it looks lovely.” Looking over at her reflection, Jane’s heart sunk a little. Through the tulle, you could faintly see that incriminating scar on her shoulder. It would be much too stupid to point this out however, so Jane stayed silent. "Ready?" Sherlock asked, coming in. 

"You look dashing Sherlock!" Clara cooed, brushing some lint of his suit jacket. 

"Thank you, Clara." He said, adjusting his bow tie.

"You two both look so lovely together." 

Exchanging a quick glance with each other, Sherlock frowned.

"Right, I think that we should get going, wouldn't you say, Sherlock?" Jane said quickly. 

"I need to speak with Mycroft." He replied, walking away quickly. Glaring at Clara, Jane crossed her arms.

"What were you on about??" Jane demanded. 

"I didn't mean to let that slip." Clara tittered. Narrowing her eyes, Jane looked at her in distrust.

"Look, this is not one of those awful romance novels you read. Sherlock and I...no." Looking at her sadly, Clara looked as if she were watching a soap opera. 

"Please Clara, don't interfere, alright? I really don't want to ruin what Sherlock and I have." Jane pleaded as the sound of Sherlock's footsteps drew nearer. 

"Mycroft is ready."

"Er, right." Giving a curt nod to Clara, Jane marched after Sherlock. 

***

"Remember, this is a national ceremony. Behave-"

"Yes." Sherlock said, looking out the window.

"Do not insult guests-" Mycroft continued. 

"Yes." 

"And do not act smart, Sherlock!" 

"Yes." Sighing, Jane looked out the window.

Going to this would be a pain, but she'd do anything to help the poor banker. Once they arrived, the chauffeur opened the car door for them, and Jane and Sherlock found themselves facing the door.

"Ready?" Jane asked, looking at the mahogany door. Nodding, Sherlock opened the door. The first part was the suspects. While Jane surveyed every possible exit, Sherlock singled out every individual. 

"Anyone I should be keeping an eye on?" Jane nudged him as they sat towards the wall.

"A few." 

"Might help if you were a tad more specific." 

"The Italian, and that politician there." He murmured, nodding towards a large man.

"You serious? Isn't that man...?"

"An ambassador... And...?" 

"Well then. Can't really trust anyone these days, can you?" Jane remarked, sipping her champagne. 

"That could be drugged." Sherlock pointed out. 

"Well, good thing you'll be here in that case. I'll take my chances." Jane chuckled, sipping it.

"You’re shaking slightly. You are nervous." 

"No," Jane denied. "I'm not nervous. Just feeling out of place." 

" _Nervous_. Your breath is shaking, as well as your drink. You are not in stress, just anxiety over the social situation." 

"Had to spell it out, did you?" She grumbled slightly. When Mycroft gave them a pointed look, Jane and Sherlock noticed they were the only couple who were not dancing. 

"We need to blend in." Sherlock said, seizing Jane's hand and taking her to the dance floor.

"Sherlock, I don't know how to dance!"

"It's simple." Putting his hand on her waist, Sherlock took the hand he was holding and placed it on his shoulder.

"Step, step, step." He instructed, leading her. When she stepped on his feet and tripped, Jane's face turned scarlet.

"So-sorry." She whispered when three people turned to stare. 

"Keep going," he told her, keeping a steady beat. Nodding slightly, Jane nervously kept staring at her feet. 

"Your dancing skills are appalling." Sherlock chuckled. 

"Shut it." She said, rapping him on the arm. 

*** 

Two hours later, the search for the suspect was still on. At long last however, Sherlock took note of someone.

"Jane," he said, standing up from the table they were seated at.

"What, the man in the navy blue??" She asked, joining Sherlock. 

"He noticed us...” Sherlock said, taking quick strides. Grabbing the handbag that had her browning, Jane hurried to catch up. When the man saw them coming, he hurried out of the room. Breaking into a run, Sherlock and Jane saw him heading into a hallway.

"Quick, we've got to catch him!" Jane said, grabbing her gun out of her bag. Catching up to the man, Sherlock swung a punch at him. Knocking him to the ground, Sherlock then seized his collar and slammed him against the wall.

"Who-what do you want??" The man asked, struggling.

"Account 3945. Wanted more than your fair share, that's why you kidnapped the banker."

"The interest wasn't proper!" The man hissed, struggling.

"So, you kidnapped him, as if that would solve the issue. Where is he?" Sherlock demanded, his knuckles turning white.

"We will take it from here, Sherlock." Mycroft intervened, two men in suits accompanying him. Releasing him, Sherlock fixed him with a stony glare before turning to Sherlock.

"Are we finished then, Mycroft?” 

"By your leave." Spotting a back exit, Sherlock walked towards it. 

"We have a car to-" 

"I don't need it. Let's go Jane." He said, taking her hand.

Following him, Jane and Sherlock went into the brisk evening. Waiting for a cab on the busy, noisy street, Jane shivered and rubbed her bare arms. Saying nothing, Sherlock shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. 

"Th-thanks." She chattered, putting her arms through the sleeves. 

"You should have worn something warmer." Laughing, Jane looked at the thin, flowing dress and laughed. 

"You know I didn't choose it myself." Jane talked loudly over the chatter of the crowd of people. 

“I don't know why Mycroft even had us come. He could very well have done this on his own. This was so dull it was painful.” He complained, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“Probably just having fun, making you dress up and go ‘socialize’.” Jane mimicked Sherlock, donning a deep scowl, and drawing her lips into a pout. 

“I don't sulk.”

“Yeah, you do.” Jane laughed a little, before noticing Sherlock's puzzled expression.

“What is it?”

"You look winsome." Sherlock said very quietly. Blinking, Jane looked at him questioningly. 

"Sorry...?" 

"Thecabishere." Sherlock announced quickly, whipping open the door and sliding in.

Did Sherlock just call her... _winsome_? Surely she must have imagined it. She could never imagine him saying something so (as he would phrase it) maudlin. It really wouldn't be Sherlock to compliment her like that.

*** 

Once they were home, they were laughing and chattering.

"I can't believe we did it." Jane laughed as she took off her shoes at the doorway. Throwing his coat and scarf on the banister, Sherlock jogged up the stairs and shrugged of his suit jacket. 

"I can't believe you danced without knocking over someone." He snidely said.

"Oi, you were the one who dragged me into that crowd. I'm never dancing in public again. Ever." 

"I love dancing,” Sherlock said suddenly. "Always have." In an uncharacteristically humorous mood, Sherlock extended his hand to her. 

Giggling a little, Jane gave him an amused smile. 

"But we don't have any music..." Pulling out their radio, Sherlock tuned it in to a certain station, and the melody of a cheerful waltz came drifting into the room. 

"You are ridiculous..." Jane snorted, but did not object. 

Taking his hand and putting her hand on his shoulder, Sherlock and Jane gleefully danced. Laughing when he twirled her, she clumsily bumped into him. 

"Sorry...out of practice."

"You were just dancing an hour ago." Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, well the last time I've waltzed, or danced was in primary school!" She snorted, attempting a twirl. Stepping on the coffee table, Sherlock continued dancing.

"I can't believe we're doing this!" She chortled, as they stepped off and to the centre of the living room. 

Stepping onto a chair, Jane let Sherlock take her waist and lift her. Putting both hands on his shoulders, Jane looked down at him, her golden hair falling over her shoulder, and her periwinkle dress swished around her legs. Their breathing slowing, Sherlock gazed up into her eyes, a ghost of a smile on his face. Feeling her cheeks grow a little warm, Jane laughed nervously. 

"How long are you planning on keeping me up here?" She asked teasingly, her cheeks tinged pink. 

A mischievous smirk growing, Sherlock spun in aimless circles, still keeping her up. 

"You know, for someone who doesn't eat, you're admittedly strong." 

The music stopping, Sherlock slowly lowered her until her bare feet touched the ground. When the music changed to one more serious, this time it was Jane who initiated the dance.

"One more?"

"Yes." He agreed, taking her waist. 

Putting her head on his chest, Jane silently listened to his heart beat, and just moved back and forth. Turning Jane, he aligned her with his body and put his hand on her waist. There was no need for words this time. Looking down at Jane, Sherlock's grip tightened ever so slightly.

She truly looked stunning. It wasn't even the dress, it was her. The way she smiled, or the smirk as she made some sort of smart arse comment. The feeling of her firm but warm hand in his. Her fierce eyes that could see through illusion. When he was with her, it just felt...right to be with her.

"Jane...” He said, looking down at her, leaning in slightly. The song playing its last strains, Jane slowly pulled away.

"It's two in the morning. We...should get some sleep." She said, smiling. 

"Ah...of course." Backing away, Sherlock turned off the radio. 

"Good night..." She smiled warmly, before picking up her skirts and hurrying up the stairs.

"Goodnight...Jane." Feeling somewhat empty, he watched her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, Clara may or may not be scheming for them to be together.


	24. Irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jane take down a gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted by iamthenightcowerbefore me to write "Cheesy crime show bust", and this is the result.

“I won't do it.” Said Sherlock stubbornly.  
“Sherlock, it's been the gang Lestrade has been attempting to catch for weeks!!” Jane replied, throwing her hands in the air.  
“It is painfully obvious where their hideout is, I won't help.”  
“Then where is the hideout?” She asked smugly, putting her hands on her hips.  
“The homeless network informed me.”  
“And you still won't help?”  
The silence was her answer.  
“Alright,” she said haltingly. “You won't help? Be that way.”  
And with that, Jane was out the door.  
Stalking out angrily, she hailed a cab. Tim had given them a tip off on where to find them. If he would not help, so be it. Jane would take down that drug gang alone.  
Arriving at a dank, old, musty warehouse, she climbed up the gate. Stopping where there was barbed wire, she pulled her trusted pair of wire cutters and clipped away. After she got on the other side, she moved in.  
Hearing some swears and laughter, she listened carefully. Two men were talking by a large, green van with a white stripe down the centre.  
“He wants ‘em into port, tonight.”  
“It's already the afternoon! If we're gonna be all the way at Blackpool, we need to get goin’!”  
“Yeh, yeh. Let's load the truck.”  
As soon as they got the big van loaded, they went inside. Running, Jane snuck into the car. Finding boxes and old plastic tarps, Jane grabbed a tarp and pulled it over her.  
“Did Jack forget to put the boxes up? Agh, I've told ‘im over an’ over again, don't just-”  
Sighing, he threw a few bags and crates on Jane’s head and slammed the door shut. Grimacing at the discomfort, Jane tried to stay as still as possible.

***  
Peering from behind a fence, Sherlock listened closely. While he told Jane he wouldn't do it, he lied. He did need opportunities to complete tasks on his own.  
“Just one stop left, alright! We’ll get better pay!” A man was arguing.  
“Great! We need to be at Blackpool in three hours! Just great!”  
Blackpool. He had been given the correct information after all. Spotting a green van with a white stripe down the middle, Sherlock waited for a moment then dashed over. Quietly as possible, he spotted a heap of ragged blankets in the back of the van. Stepping over a tarp with boxes and crates strewn all across it, he wrinkled his nose at the odious smelling blankets before ducking under.  
Hearing the doors slam and the Irish rock blast, he sighed and settled in for the three hour ride. A shame Jane wasn't here. It would have proved too been quite interesting.

***  
“Is it all here then?”  
“Yup.”  
Grabbing boxes, they all started tossing them out one by one.  
“Hurry, we need to get it in the car for the next port!”  
After mumbled words, the voices faded away. Getting out of the van, Jane hurried to find them. She had to find them before they got the drugs to port. Making sure her gun was loaded, she kept herself hidden as she tried to figure out what to do. The first thing was to close all the doors off. Then get them into prison. Checking her phone, she growled slightly when the phone had no service. What would she do now?  
“Where's Sherlock when I need him?” She whispered before hurrying off.

***  
Seal off the doors. Obviously, that was the first choice. Zipping up the pea green jacket he found near the van, he snatched a ratty hat off a fence and slipped it on before swiping a little mud off the wet ground and rubbed it on his face. At least he wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb now.  
Going towards the doors, he immediately checked for security cameras. None. Scanning the doors, he noticed an automatic lock. That meant there was something that could security lock all of the doors. Sneaking towards the centre of the building, he looked for the security office. Finding it, he studied the admittance key code before punching in four numbers.  
Clicking open, Sherlock pushed the door open and slipped in.

***  
Did they already go outside? It wouldn't hurt to look. Yanking the door, Jane saw a tiny light turn red. The doors were automatically locked. Heart hammering, she bit her lip. Did they know she was here somehow, and were trying to catch her?  
“Oi, the doors locked!” One of the smugglers voices shouted.  
“Pull harder!”  
“It's what I'm doing!” He yelled, yanking.  
“Go to the office, and flip off the automatic system!”  
Grumbling, the man’s footsteps faded away.  
***  
Hearing someone come in, Sherlock looked up in time to see a knife fly.  
“Who are you??” The man shouted.  
Blocking him, Sherlock twisted his arm up his back and kneed him.  
When he slumped down, Sherlock took the mans’ gun and loaded it.  
Running out the door, he looked for more men to take down.

***  
“Someone's in here, I heard Charlie yellin’!” Jane overheard them.  
Someone else was here?? It was either the police or Mycroft. Hearing them run in her direction, she aimed her gun at them.  
“Nobody move, or I shoot. Weapons on the ground.”  
Lowering their weapons slowly, the men put their hands over their head.  
“Don't move.” She ordered, carefully searching them both.  
When she searched the older man, the one who she rode with brought his fists down on her.  
Kicking his knees, Jane used his body force against him and flipped him on his back.  
“What part of ‘don't move’ did you not understand??” She asked, handcuffing him.  
Backing off, the man broke into a run. Getting up, she chased after him and heard him suddenly cry out in pain, then silence. She knew this was Mycroft. Had to be someone from Mycroft.  
“You know, sparing the dramatics and saying ‘hey Jane I'm here’ would be..” Jane said loudly just as Sherlock said:  
“Here we are again, Mycroft. How very like you not to say any-”  
Stopping, they both just stared at each other.  
“Sherlock?? What are you doing here?”  
“I'm curious as to know the same thing.”  
“Well, I snuck in through this van that got in twenty minutes ago-”  
“-a green one?”  
“Yeah, why?”  
“How extraordinary.”  
“What, managing to keep my mouth shut for four hours?” Jane snorted.  
“No, the fact we were in the same car, and did not see the other.”  
Mouth dropping slightly, Jane let out a hysterical laugh.  
“You're joking! You were in the same car as me??”  
“Unless there were two green cars with white stripes down the middle, then yes.”  
Staring at each other again, Sherlock let out a deep chuckle, making Jane smile. After laughing for a minute, the two grinned at each other.  
“I believe this makes one of the most-ridiculous things we’ve done…” Jane chuckled.  
“Except the case with the cruise ship.”  
“Oh, those poor tourists…” She sighed.  
“Excuse me for a moment. We might as well contact the police.”  
After a quick phone call, Sherlock threw off the pea coat and picked his normal black one off the floor.  
“Unless you wish to spend the rest of our evening in a police office, I suggest we leave.” Sherlock said, putting on his scarf.  
“But they’ll have questions that need answers!” Jane argued.  
“Unless you want Mycroft and Lestrade breathing down our spines for the next year, I suggest we leave, now.” Sherlock retorted.  
After a short staring contest, Jane finally sighed.  
“Alright, fine.” She grumbled.  
***  
Where ever they were, it certainly wasn't Blackpool. The dismal place seemed nearly a ghost town, with old buildings, and no public transport in sight.  
Shivering at the icy sleet, Jane rubbed her arms. Sherlock sneezed several times and looked thoroughly exhausted.  
“Perhaps we should've stayed…” Jane commented as they walked down the street.  
“Nonsense.”  
Checking her watch, Jane closed her eyes.  
“It's 1 in the morning, Sherlock. How are we going to find a cab, bus, or something this late, in this small of a-where are you going?”  
Opening the door to a hotel with a flickering light, Sherlock looked at the crabby woman at the desk.  
“Two rooms.” He announced, looking at the cigarette in her hand.  
“That'll be 460 per room.” She said snidely.  
Mouth opening slightly, Jane raised an eyebrow.  
“Debit.” Sherlock said, pulling out his wallet.  
“We only take cheques and cash.”  
“What kind of hotel is this?? Do we look like we're carrying 460 euros around in our back pockets?!” Jane exploded.  
She was tired and she wanted to be at home, asleep right now. But she was currently dying of pneumonia in an overpriced dump.  
“It’s our policy milady.”  
Digging through his pocket, Sherlock wadded out a bill. Grabbing it, the lady looked it over.  
“There’s only 430 ‘ere.”  
“I'm sure you're willing to bring the fee down by 30.” Leaning on the counter, Sherlock gave his best smile.  
"For you, since you're cute, Love. Not getting’ your girlfriend one?”  
“We’ll make do.”  
“Blimey. Have fun sharing with that bear.”  
"We're not a couple!"  
"Thank God for that!" throwing her head back, she gave a booming laugh.  
Eye twitching, Jane angrily clenched her fist.  
“Alright, ‘ere’s your key. Enjoy your stay.” She said, winking at him.  
“Enjoy your rip-off.” Jane growled.  
“Thank you.” He said, walking on.  
Following him tiredly, Jane rubbed her eyes.  
“How come you carry so much cash…?”  
“Well, it was very obvious that we weren't driving to Blackpool.”  
“Obvious?”  
“Yes. The way the car swerved, it went over its said destination.”  
“So you carried a lot of cash.” Jane said dully.  
“Yes.”  
Unlocking the door, he pushed open the worn door before shrugging off his coat. Turning on the lights, Jane grimaced at the sight. A single person bed in the middle, an old Telly, water stained walls, mould, and a few bugs scattering about.  
“Charming.” She said, taking her gun off.  
“I'm getting a shower.” Sherlock announced, opening the bathroom door and stepping in.  
Taking off her shoes and socks, Jane finger combed through her hair. Sitting in a hard, wooden chair, she switched on the Telly and watched it absently.  
She must have dozed off, because when she woke up, Sherlock was shaking her.  
“We need to get some rest.”  
“In a minute. Are you hungry?”  
“No.” Sherlock said, his stomach rumbling.  
“Liar. I found this in the van, didn't know when I’d get a chance to eat so…”  
Fishing through her pockets, she pulled out a candy bar and some crushed pack of crackers.  
“Here,” she said, breaking off half the candy. “You take it.”  
Reluctantly, Sherlock accepted it and a cracker.  
“Nice meal, this…” Jane laughed.  
Eating the stake crackers and slightly melted candy bar, they both felt utterly miserable. Shivering, Sherlock looked at the rainy window and sighed.  
“You look much more tired than I do. You can take the bed. I can sleep on the floor.” Jane told him, removing her jacket.  
“Don't be ridiculous. The floor is mildewed and you’ll grow ill sleeping on it. As a medical professional, I thought you would know that.” Sherlock chastised her.  
“No, I know that!”  
“Then why did you suggest it?”  
Jane was ready to lay down in a ditch at this point, as long as she could sleep.  
“Fine. We’ll need to manoeuvre this though. This bed can barely hold me let alone both of us.”  
Trying to lay down, he jabbed her ribs with his elbow, as her knee hit the back of his leg.  
“Ow, watch it!” She said, trying to move over so he could have room as well.  
“I'm halfway off the bed…” Sherlock complained.  
It was a truly awful bed. The mattress sagged slightly, and anytime they moved half an inch, the bed replicated the wail of a broken cello. They finally had it worked so they could both fit and still be somewhat comfortable. Carefully putting his arms around her, Sherlock started to doze off.  
“Are you sure about this…?” Jane asked cautiously.  
“Do you have a better idea?” Sherlock asked, lightly bringing her head to his chest with his hand, making Jane blush at the gesture.  
"Well-no-but-" Jane answered.  
"Mn.” Sherlock mumbled, wrapping his arms around her.  
Listening to the steady beat of his heart, Jane fell asleep.  
***  
Hearing a car outside, Jane frowned and looked around. Where was she? The events of last night came back to her in a whirl. Groaning, Jane rubbed her head. She had an awful headache, and Sherlock was crushing her. Reaching up, she shook his shoulder.  
“Oi, wake up.”  
Startling awake, Sherlock looked around.  
“What time is it?” He asked groggily, sitting up..  
“Nearly ten.” She said, shoving her matted hair out of her face and checked her watch.  
Hearing her phone buzz, she reached to the night stand, accidentally knocking Sherlock in the stomach.  
“Sherlock, apparently England thinks we've either gotten killed, kidnapped, or gone off the grid.” Jane said, frowning.  
She had in total, thirty four texts, and ten missed calls. After countless explanations of “Yes, we’re fine,” and “Don’t send the MI6,” as well as “It was a last minute case,” and numerous “No, we did not elope.”, Jane and Sherlock took a train home.  
“I'm not sure who's more ready to kill us. Mycroft, Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson.” Jane laughed.  
“Or Clara.” He added.  
Yawning, Jane looked at the passing scenery tiredly.  
“Yesterday was so ridiculous though.”  
“More so than running from an officer?”  
Wracking her brain, Jane recalled the first day they had met, and smiled.  
“Yeah...” She mumbled, putting her head on the seat ahead of her.  
After she fell asleep, Sherlock watched her quietly. Sneaking off to infiltrate a drug gang alone. She certainly did have guts. It was Jane though, a woman who seemed quite fearless. Reckless beyond all measure, and sometimes unequivocally idiotic.  
Smiling fondly at her, he gently steered her off the seat ahead of her so she'd fall asleep on his shoulder. Looping his arm around her, he stared at the passing scenery. She mumbled something about a motel and bugs, and snuggled closer. Raising his eyebrow at her, he resumed looking out the window, his thoughts drifting to his mind palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once watched this movie where they actually get in the same vehicle, it made me laugh so hard.


	25. Internet Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The result of no internet

“Try resetting again.” Jane told Sherlock as she messed with her laptop.

Grumbling, Sherlock found the internet would not reconnect.

“No service either…that bloody storm.” Jane complained, giving up.

“Perfect. No internet.” Sherlock angrily stated. Putting her phone and laptop down, Jane looked up at the lights.

“Electricity will be out for a bit to.”

Growling, Sherlock stood up. Looking over at the violin, the want to play it was not in him presently. _Inconvenient_ , Sherlock thought, sitting in his chair.

“So, what do we do until then?” Jane asked.

Ignoring her, Sherlock went into his mind palace.

“Alright, be that way.”

Getting some matches, Jane started a fire. Selecting a book, Jane settled down to catch up on some reading. Watching the rain pound against the window, Jane put down her book and watched. It was peaceful, granted. Sherlock, tucked in his mind palace, leaving Jane to read and think a bit. Of course, that peace didn’t last long.

“Oi, Sherlock, you up here??” Jane heard Lestrade call downstairs before jogging up.

“Sherlock.” Shaking him, Sherlock startled and looked at Jane, confused.

“What?”

“Lestrade’s here.”

“A case?” Noticing the ever so slight smile and the way his hands were clenched, Jane knew he was desperate for a case.

“Yeh. Some guy died in a bowl of soup.”

“What?” Sherlock and Jane simultaneously asked.

“Will you come?” Lestrade asked.

“Not in a police car.” Giving them directions, Lestrade took his leave.

“YES!” Grinning, Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf. Zipping hers up as well, Jane followed him downstairs.

***

“No drugs or alcohol in his system. Um, is there anything else you need to see?” Molly asked, as Jane looked over the corpse.

“Sherlock?” Looking at the corpse, Sherlock wheeled around and walked out.

“I don’t think so. Thanks Molly.” Hurrying out, Jane caught up with him.

“Well?”

“We need to go to the restaurant, more information.” Sherlock said, hailing a cab.

“He was murdered though, there’s no doubt of that.” Jane replied, getting in.

***

In a nearby café, Sherlock and Jane recounted facts.

“So, here’s what we got. Terry Wong, owner of Orient Express, died in a bowl of soup. He was murdered however, what with the bruising around his face and neck.” Jane ticked off her fingers.

“No witnesses from the reports, however, he was never alone yesterday.”

“That’s tricky. How can a man be murdered with no one seeing him?” Jane asked.

“Nine customers, two waiters and two kitchen staff. Each of them confirmed that Wong had been alive at the time they left the restaurant. And every single one of them denied seeing anyone attack him.” Sherlock frowned.

“Okay, well, just down the road, a news anchor was there. They have security cameras, right? Perhaps they saw something.” Jane said, getting up. Blinking at her, Sherlock said nothing.

“What? We’ve got to hurry!” Jane said to him at the door.

“Why didn’t I think of it…?” Sherlock muttered before following suit.

***

“Okay…it checks out. All 13 had left when they said they did.”

“Hmm…” Replaying the tapes, Sherlock watched them again.

“Perhaps there’s someone we don’t know about? Maybe there’s someone who stayed after closing?” Jane suggested.

“No one. From 11 PM, to now, no one other than ourselves and the police have been in the restaurant.” Then, Sherlock donned the expression that Jane came to call “the lightbulb face”. Sherlock had discovered something absolutely brilliant. “What..?”

“We need to go through the personal records of all of the witnesses.”

***

Once they returned to the hipster café, Jane and Sherlock returned to work.

“Check every Twitter status that the waiters made, and I’ll check the kitchen staff.” Sherlock directed.

Sighing at the man’s Twitter account, Jane wondered if it were possible to post this many pictures of yourself. At last, Jane came across something.

“Listen to this. ‘Was sacked by that prick. Apparently my time it takes to serve was slower than the other waiters.’” Jane recounted.

Writing it in her notebook, Jane begun to research other witnesses. By 11 that night, Sherlock and Jane were nearly finished.

“So, here’s how it goes: two women were assaulted by Wong, kitchen staff had unfair pay, waiter was harassed, waiter was fired, four men were cheated, and two women had been spied on by him.” Jane read aloud.

“Yep.”

“Pleasant chap, isn’t he.”

“They all did it. All of them had enough, concluding that all thirteen murdered him. Then, reported it to police and stated true alibis. Remarkable.” Sherlock remarked. Jane could tell Sherlock was genuinely impressed.

“Well…what do we do? I mean…” She definitely couldn’t blame any one of them for doing this.

Terry Wong seemed to be pretty awful. And all thirteen of them getting their revenge? However, they broke the law. People could not just murder others and walk home free.

“We do not have definitive proof,” Sherlock pointed out as if reading her thoughts. “I’d say that the witnesses all have solid alibis.”

“Yeah…but…I don’t know, Sherlock. What happened was…wrong.”

Shrugging, Sherlock stood up. “Wrong actions for right reasons.”

It was an odd sort of justice. Sherlock went to Lestrade, and told them that all of the witnesses’ alibis were correct. When he was further questioned, all he said was: “Perhaps it was a ghost?” And took his leave.

***

Going home, they both gave an aggravated sigh when the internet still wasn’t working. Giving up, they both looked at each other.

“Well, let’s find something else to do.” Jane offered. Looking over at the kitchen, Sherlock raised an eyebrow as if he just got a thought.

“What?” Jane asked.

“Baking.”

“Baking? I was thinking something more...low key? Besides, it’s nearly eleven at night.”

“Oh please. It’s practically the middle of the day.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Are you tired?” Sherlock asked her.

“No.”

“Then we bake.”

Why did Sherlock of all people want to bake? Marking that down as another uncharacteristic thing he’s done, Jane grabbed a cookbook and headed into the kitchen.

***

“What about this?” Looking it over, Sherlock shook his head.

“No.”

“Argh, why not??” Exasperated, Jane threw up her hands.

“To simple. Boring.”

“This is your first time baking something! It has to be simple!”

“What do you normally make?” Sherlock suddenly asked.

“Me? Well, I don’t bake much other than Christmas cookies, which we can’t do because it isn’t Christmas.”

“Other than Christmas.”

“I haven’t baked something since…well…I actually don’t remember.” Thinking back, a fond smile grew on Jane's face. “Pie. My brother and I sometimes baked pies.”

“Then we’ll do that.”

“But it takes forever.” Jane grumbled.

“It’s only eleven thirty. We have plenty of time, don't be an idiot.”

***

Admittedly, Sherlock was a much better baker than he was a cook. He was meticulous in detailing, surprisingly patient, and quite good at following the instructions. 

“I don’t get it. You were a complete nightmare last time.” 

“Thank you.” Sherlock dryly commented, laying another pastry strip across the pear and blackberries. 

“Have you baked before?” Jane asked as he was finishing up. 

“A few times.” Sherlock admitted, sliding the pie in. Handing her a mug of tea, Sherlock took his own. 

“Thank you,” Jane smiled, sipping her own tea before coughing. 

“Sherlock, you added sugar!” She protested. When he chuckled mischievously at her, she hit him with a nearby tea towel.

“Oh you prat, you ruined a perfectly good cuppa!” Jane complained. When he smirked at her, she rolled her eyes and snapped the kettle back on. 

*** 

“And, done!” Jane announced once they tested it. Cutting them both a large slice, they sat at the kitchen table and dug in.

“It’s…nearly one, but we did it. More so, _you_ did it.” Jane grinned. Nodding, Sherlock swallowed his pie and smiled a bit. 

“Not bad.” He agreed.

“Shame the case didn’t last longer.” Jane glumly said.  “We haven’t had a case in ages.” 

“You’re beginning to sound like me.”

“I consider not having a case in a week an age.” 

“Incorrect. We had one today.”

“Incorrect. _Yesterday_ we had a case. It’s Thursday now.” Jane corrected him, smirking.

Once they finished the pie, they put the dishes in the sink and put the pie away. 

“We have supplies for biscuits. I haven’t made those in a while.” Sherlock hummed.

“Sherlock. It’s one.”

“Are you tired?” 

“No…”

“Then get the flour. While we’re awake, we need to be doing something with our time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, I am not this productive when my own internet goes out


	26. Puppy Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jane take care of a puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry I haven't updated much! I'm busy writing up the next story, and also with rehearsals. I've finally achieved a dream of mine to preform in Les Miserables! Until the performances end, I will be a bit preoccupied. But not to worry, I will update whenever possible!

Sherlock had seen many, many unusual things in his flat. A hostage crisis, a rabid squirrel, arsonists, criminals. But a wet puppy was admittedly a first.

“Mrs. Hudson!!” Sherlock bellowed. Looking down at the golden retriever, Sherlock crouched down and looked at its sad, droopy eyes. 

“Oh, so you’ve met Thor.” He heard Jane yell from the bathroom.

“Who?” Sherlock snapped.

“That’s what I’ve been calling him.”

“How long has this- _dog_ been in our flat??”

“Barely an hour.” 

Getting up, Sherlock peered inside the bathroom, which was covered in mud. “What is this?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

“It’s how I found Thor. He was completely muddy. Poor thing.”

Giving a pathetic whimper, Thor padded up to Sherlock. 

“Where are his owners?” Sherlock asked, looking at the bright red collar. 

“I found him running around with a leash dragging behind him. He probably took off on them. I spent nearly an hour trying to find the owners but…” Shrugging, Jane swiped at the mud on the tile floor.

“You didn’t think to send him to a shelter?”

“No! That’s the last place we should send this poor puppy! Tomorrow, I’m going to try and find the dogs owners.”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to maintain a dog?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I…I’ve never had pets actually.” Jane admitted , examining a difficult spot of mud. “My Mum never let us have one.”

As Sherlock stroked the dogs floppy ears, Jane finished up her cleaning. 

“You ever have a pet?” 

“Once.” Sherlock shortly replied. Noticing the dog was starting to crouch, Sherlock scooped the puppy up and hauled him down the stairs. 

“Sherlock?” 

“When he crouches, you need to take him outside!” Sherlock instructed, opening the door with one hand, the puppy in his other. 

*** 

“What do we even feed him? I mean, we have no idea what kind of brand his owners fed him.” Jane contemplated, hand under chin.

Watching him chew at a pillow, Sherlock shook his head. Standing up, he grabbed his coat. “I will get him some temporary supplies.” 

“But I don’t know how to take care of a dog!” Jane argued, grabbing his arm to stop him.

Looking over at the dog and Jane, Sherlock had to concur. Jane truly knew very little of animals. 

“Look, text me what we need, and I’ll get it.” Jane offered, getting her own jacket and going down.

Writing it out for her, Sherlock handed her the list and sent her on her away.

“Arf!” Bouncing about, the puppy trotted over to Sherlock. 

Looking into his big eyes, Sherlock reached down and scratched Thor’s floppy ears. He remembered the first day he got Redbeard. 

_“A puppy!!! A puppy!!!” Eight year old Sherlock cried out for joy as the pup wagged his tail excitedly._

_“What are you going to call him Sweetheart?” His mummy asked. Giggling as the dog kept licking his face, Sherlock hugged the dog’s neck._

_“Redbeard!”_

_“That’s a stupid name! You can’t let him call the dog that!” Mycroft said in exasperation._

_“Shut it, Fatcroft.” Sherlock growled, glaring at his brother._

_“Mum! He just-called me-”_

_“-Oh, Myke, it’s Christmas! Let him have his fun.” Sulking, Mycroft picked up his new book and stalked to the kitchen._

_“Let’s go, Redbeard.” Sherlock called to his new puppy, trying to haul him away._

_“Where are you taking him?”_

_“My room! Since he’s my first mate, he’s got to stay in my room!” Taking him up, Sherlock immediately started making him a bed in the corner._

_“That’s where you sleep! I sleep here!” As the puppy lay it’s head on Sherlock’s lap, he stroked his silky ears._

_“I’m glad you’re here.”_

Sometimes it felt the puppy was the only friend he had in the entire world. Sherlock didn’t like remembering what came after, a year later. Redbeard ran away. They had been camping one day. Somehow, the dog had run away, leaving Sherlock behind. He truly loved that dog. And just like that, Redbeard was gone. After that, Sherlock had hated dogs. Hated their personalities, their eager attitudes. 

But…looking at Thor, Sherlock allowed a small smile. Perhaps this one wasn’t so bad. Looking at the name tag, he knew this pup had to have been named by a child. That meant there was a little boy who lost his dog. And he would bring Thor home. Picking up his mobile, he called Mycroft.

“Hello Brother Dear, how  _are_ you?” 

“What do you want? I have a meeting in ten minutes.” 

“Incorrect, eight minutes. You’re getting slow.”

“Sherlock.” Hearing Mycroft’s irritated tone, Sherlock knew he had better cut to the point. 

“A dog has lost his owner. I need help locating the owners.”

“A _dog_?”

“Yes, a dog. A golden retriever to be precise.”

*** 

“Nothing so far?” Jane asked, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder. 

“Nothing. Mycroft is still looking.” Sherlock said, frowning at the lack of matches.

“Well, he is quite adorable for a puppy. If they never show up, we could keep him.” 

“That’s the last thing we can do!! We need to locate the family!” Sherlock’s voice raised, clenching his fist. Frowning in concern, Jane sat down.

“I know we do, Sherlock. I wasn’t suggesting we actually steal a puppy. Besides, his name’s Thor. I have a feeling a kid might’ve named him that.” Looking at her in surprise, Sherlock realised he had once again underestimated her. 

“We’ll find the family, I know we will.” Jane smiled, rubbing his shoulder.

Putting his hand over hers, Sherlock nodded. 

*** 

For once, Sherlock and Jane were both thoroughly exhausted. The puppy rarely slept through the night. Every two or three hours, one or both were awoken by barking. Two days later, Jane and Sherlock watched the puppy wrestle with a toy as they sat in their chairs. And, they finally had a phone call. 

“Hello? Yes! Yes, we have your dog! Yes, his name’s Thor, that’s him!” As Sherlock heard a frantic woman babbling, Jane and Sherlock exchanged grins of triumph. 

Getting off the phone, Jane snatched up a leash.

“Okay, let’s get this dog back! You want to come?”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Sherlock replied, grabbing his coat. 

“We’re meeting up somewhere not too far. Want to walk?” Jane asked him. Nodding, Sherlock took the leash and put it on the puppy. Walking down the street, Jane looked down at Thor and smiled sadly. 

“I’ll miss him.”

“He’s just a dog.” Sherlock replied with a shrug.

“Oh stop. You’ll miss him just as much as me.” Shaking his head, Sherlock walked a bit faster. 

Arriving at the park where the puppy was lost, they ran into the teary eyed family. A young wife and husband, with a toddler and new-born. 

“Tha-thank you so much!” The woman cried, hugging Jane and then Sherlock. 

“Thor!!” The child gleefully yelled, hugging the puppy.

“Ah, here. Hopefully this covers some costs that you might’ve had to spend.” The man said, handing them a few notes.

“Oh, it’s okay, really.”

“No, I insist.” The man refused, handing the money to Sherlock.

“You two make a fine couple! Thank you both so, so much!” The woman gushed, crying. After a few more words, Sherlock and Jane headed back to the flat. 

“I’ll miss him.” Jane sighed. 

“Still, I’m glad they got the pup back.” Changing directions, Sherlock walked the opposite direction of where they had been heading.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a demonstration for sword techniques that I wished to see for a case. Afterwards, I wanted to eat some Thai food.” Sherlock nonchalantly responded. 

“You’re taking me on a date.” Jane smirked.

“No.” Sherlock answered, looking straight ahead.

“Yes, you are. You could just ask me like an ordinary person.” Huffing, Sherlock muttered under his breath how ridiculous the notion was, and how it certainly was not a date.

Laughing at him, Jane took his hand and lightly swung it as they walked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Sherlock and Jane are together, I do enjoy instilling in a smudge more fluff ;)


	27. Locked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Sherlock get kicked out of their flat temporarily, shenanigans ensue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't apologise enough about how long I have taken to update. Theatre truly drains you. But, the updates will begin to come regularly again thankfully! Hope you enjoy!

“You are driving me insane!!” Jane snapped angrily, slamming her laptop.  
“Good, that makes two of us!” Sherlock snapped right back, pacing.  
“Look, you will find a case, but in the meantime, just give back my sanity!”  
Growling, Sherlock looked at his phone and started reciting the email for the thousandth time.  
“Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you must help me find my husband, he disappeared again last night, and still hasn’t returned! I am so so so so so worried, please find him, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I’m begging you!!” Sherlock mimicked in a high pitched tone.  
“Obviously, he just ran away with his lover, and won't be back!”  
“How do you know that??” Jane asked, looking over his shoulder.  
“You don't even need deductive skills to solve that! But if you must know, the photo says it all. You can tell by his fingernails and the cuff of his right sleeve.”  
“Oh, well, obviously.” Jane huffed sarcastically, before looking out the window.  
“That is all the cases I have had for an entire week Jane! I am going to go mad.”  
“Well find something to do Sherlock, it is not that difficult.” Jane snapped back, her patience with him dangling on a thin thread.  
He’d been like this all week, and it was truly irritating. Opening the newspapers to see if she could find a case for Sherlock, she sighed and picked up a pencil to circle police reports that he could find potentially interesting. He truly was a difficult man to find cases for sometimes.  
Hearing someone go up the stairs, the two turned to see Mrs. Hudson at the door.  
"Oh, evening Mrs-"  
"What have you two done to the bloody floor!?" Turning to look, Jane inwardly cursed.  
She'd been meaning to clean up all of the gook and junk once Sherlock went to his room.  
"Sorry, I'll-"  
"No. Both of you, on with your coats."  
"Mrs. Hudson?"  
Grabbing Sherlock's jacket, Mrs. Hudson practically shoved Sherlock into it and led them downstairs.  
"Now, you two have been disturbing the neighbours, Mrs. Turner came in to complain! I'm fine with ruckus, but that floor is just too much! You are not coming in again, until that floor is well cleaned! Do you understand??"  
Surprised at the sudden mood swing of the usually temperate Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock and Jane exchanged looks.  
“Er, of course.” Jane said.  
“Or, considering this is our flat, we could-” Sherlock tried to argue.  
“-C’mon Sherlock, let’s go.” Jane sighed, dragging Sherlock out by his arm.  
“How dull.” Sherlock said, looking around.  
“Well this is your fault, you know. I told you not to do that experiment.” Jane said.  
“Yes, but did you stop me?” Sherlock challenged.  
“Oh, shut up. We need to find something to do until Mrs. Hudson lets us back in. Any ideas?”  
“Scotland Yard.”  
“After that last case? I don’t think we’ll be welcomed back until they get stumped on a case.” Annoyed, Sherlock’s jaw tensed.  
“Well, I could surprise you and just take you somewhere.” Jane casually suggested.  
“I would deduce the location before we even left the block.”  
“No you wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t tell you where we are going.”   
“I hardly think a ‘field trip’ would assuage my boredom.”  
“Yes, it will. Besides, if you won’t go with me, I’ll go myself and you will be bored and alone.” Jane smiled, starting to walk away.  
“Very well. I will go with you.” Sherlock announced as if he had a choice in the matter.  
“Let’s go.” Pulling him with her, Jane went outside and hailed a cab.  
“Where are we going?” Not answering, Jane just smiled to herself and kept looking out the window.  
When they arrived to the destination, Sherlock looked around.  
“I still don’t understand why we are doing something so ridiculous.”  
“We’re going to do something about this boredom of yours. You haven’t left the house since the last case, and we’re not going home until tonight.”  
“What if there’s a case?”  
“Then Lestrade can call your mobile.” Looking around in disdain, Sherlock sighed. Jane decided to take him to Piccadilly Circus.  
“Quite the tourist.” Sherlock snidely remarked.  
“What, people who live here can’t do touristy things now and then? I’ve actually never been here before. Except for...” Jane trailed off, remembering the bomb and Moriarty.  
Quiet, Sherlock looked around. He had solved a few cases here before.  
Talking about the case, the two walked down the streets, chatting.  
“Are these all the places you know?” Sherlock asked her, looking about.  
“No, I have a few more in mind.” Looking over at a carriage, Jane looked up at Sherlock and smirked.  
“Shall we?”  
“No.” Sherlock said, crinkling his nose in distaste.  
“We’re being tourists today. And now you can tell all your friends you rode a carriage in London.”  
“I don’t have friends.”  
“You have me.” Jane smiled, putting her arm through his to drag him.  
“Where to ma’am?” The man asked.  
As Jane opened her mouth to say something, Sherlock leaned forward to whisper directions.  
“Where are we going?” Jane asked, tilting her head slightly.  
“Somewhere more intriguing than The National Gallery.” When they arrived, Sherlock stepped down and waited for Jane to come down to.  
Walking through a few alleys, Sherlock stopped at grating against a stone wall.  
“What’s this?” Helping her in, Sherlock and Jane walked through old pipes.  
“Somewhere I go to think from time to time.”  
“You think in a sewage system?” Jane inquired wryly.  
“It’s not a sewage system.” Sherlock said, climbing down a rusty ladder, Jane following suit.  
In awe, Jane looked around. They were standing in an abandoned subway system. Natural light from the vents above filtered light on the old rail system, and ivy crept up the sides of the white walls.  
“This is beautiful.” She breathed, looking about.  
“This is really nice Sherlock. I can see why you go here to think!” Jane marvelled looking around.  
"I go here to think." Sherlock replied, looking out at the echoing station.  
"And hide out at times?" Jane smirked.  
"That to." Sherlock agreed.   
Sitting together, they spent their time talking about everything and nothing. Only when cold wind began blowing through the deserted tunnels did Jane and Sherlock get up.  
Ascending the decaying ladder, they made their way back up.  
"Thanks for taking me here Sherlock." Jane thanked him, her hand resting in the crook of his arm.  
Nodding, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he took her hand and kept walking.


	28. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane reflects on the past year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to the song "Rise" by Katy Perry, and it really reminded me of Jane!

Rise Waking up slowly, Jane fixated her eyes on the window near her bed at 221B. 365 days ago, Jane was lying on the sand, her blood and life spilling out in front of her very eyes. September 16th, the day she escaped the prison.

“September 16th.” She said aloud to the quiet room.

***

_The cold wind blew straight through her. While it was cold in Afghanistan, it never compared to the UK. Walking up the creaky porch steps, Jane stared at the door. How? How could she face her family? The failed soldier. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be home. Taking a slow breath, Jane opened the door._

_“He…hello.” Her mother’s eyes filling with tears, she was given a crushing hug._

_Her mother and she never got along. But, Jane loved it when her mother truly loved and embraced her. Returning the embrace, Jane lay her head on her shoulder._

_“Mum-I-” Coughing, Jane hunched over. She still was not completely healed. Leaning heavily on her walking stick, Jane adjusted her duffel._

_“Jane!” One embrace right after the other. Twenty minutes later, Jane was exhausted and irritated. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. As if sensing her daughter’s wearied state, her mother ushered everyone into the kitchen._

_"Jane, go unpack!!" Her mother then sent her up the stairs._

_For her mother’s uncharacteristic kindness, Jane gave a small nod and limped painfully up the stairs. Walk in the familiar, creaky staircase, Jane looked at her oak room before pushing it open. It looked so...foreign to her. The soft colours, the downy quilt, the warmth, her desk. Setting her army duffel on the bed, Jane looked around. For the longest time, a bunker had been her home. Not a bed with a stuffed hedgehog on it. It didn't feel right. Sitting on the floor, she put her head on the wall. She was so used to fiery air, always feeling stifling hot or a sharp cold wind on her back. The cold air in Afghanistan was vastly different from the snow filled air here. The ground that didn't crack, or have sand. Who knew that when she left this room three years ago, she would never be such a person again? Jane changed in more ways than imaginable. Looking in the mirror, Jane was unsure if she really liked who she had become._

_Hearing a knock on the door, she looked up to see her brother John quietly come in._

_"You alright?" He asked._

_"Hm? Yeah....yeah." Sitting on the ground next to her, he said nothing. For over an hour, the two sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts._

_"John! Get you and your sister down here!! Your cousins are desperate to see her!!" Groaning slightly, Jane painfully got up, grabbing her cane._

_She didn't really feel like talking or seeing anyone. She knew that they could never understand. And Jane Watson was right. For hours, there was chatter and laughter. But not once did anyone even see the façade Jane was forced to uphold. Perhaps they did. But, they most likely were too afraid to pry into her. They were afraid to see the raw pain in her. Too fearful of the silent battle Jane was fighting day by day. Using her health as an excuse, Jane excused herself._

_Dragging herself to her room, Jane closed the door behind her. No one would ever understand. The pain it was to be here. The sorrow Jane had gone through. And, the disgusting fact that Jane missed it. The adrenaline, the adventurous spirit pulsing through her veins when she was on the field. All that was left of Jane was determination. The determination that kept her from taking her gun and pressing it into her mouth. She would never let the people who took her win. She would never let them win against her. If she died, they won. That night, Jane slept on the floor. The bed was too soft, and it just didn't feel right to sleep on something that...comfortable. It felt strange to be home, not being awoken to suddenly preform a surgery, or go to a battlefield. It wasn't right._

_***_

_“Jane!! Jane!!!”_

_“No!!! NOO!!” Thrashing, Jane wildly fought._

_“Jane!” Feeling a slap, Jane opened her eyes to see Clara and her Mother. When Clara and her mother tried to console Jane, she felt this unexplainable anger at herself and even them._

_“Why are you sleeping on the floor Jane?”_

_“You need to see someone Jane, I’ve read about these sorts of things.” Her mother was telling her._

_“GET OUT!” Jane suddenly shouted._

_“Jane?”_

_“Just-leave me alone!! Please! Please!!”_

_Affronted, her mother rose angrily. “I was trying to help you, because that’s what you need Jane! Help! But forgive me for caring! Clara, come!” With that, her mother slammed the door on Jane, leaving her in the darkness._

_In the eerily silent room, Jane let herself break down. Sitting by the window, Jane let her hot and angry tears slide down her cheeks. She was angry, she was bitter. Why? Why did they kill Johanna and not her? If only Johanna had lived, and she had died. Johanna had a family, a fiancé. Jane had nothing. No one loved her, and no one wanted her here._

_She decided then. Jane needed to leave Truro. To shake the dust of Afghanistan and Truro away. But where could Jane Watson go? Opening her laptop, Jane found herself looking at London. The last time she had gone was in college. But, she had loved it. And more importantly, if there was any place to get a fresh start, it was London._

***

“Obviously we need to locate Peter’s mother. Please don’t remark on my brilliance.” Sherlock snarkily said, shaking his head.

“Okay.” Jane agreed, following him.

Looking back at her, Sherlock’s eyebrows raised at her lack of attitude. Noticing his confusion, Jane forced a smile.

“Sorry, ah, didn’t sleep a lot last night.”

September 16th. The day Jo died, the day Jane barely escaped. Jane knew she was going to be upset, just not so depressed that Sherlock would notice something was wrong. To be fair, he was Sherlock. It was only natural he’d notice.

_Waking up, Jane looked over at the sleeping Jo. Hearing her rasping breaths, Jane knew she was also sick. Shivering from fever and cold, Jane looked at the single window in the cell. It was her only hope of life now. Every night, she’d see the stars. It was a symbol to her, a beacon of hope. No matter how awful her fate seemed, the stars showed her there still was beauty in this war scarred earth. And one day, Jane would see the stars again as a free woman._

Watching Peter’s mother go into the police car, Jane felt nothing. Not a spark of adrenaline was in her today. Quiet, Jane waited until the car drove away, then turned to Sherlock.

“Where to next?”

“Case closed. She will stand trial for attempted murder and forging documents.”

“I see.” Jane said quietly.

“You had another argument with your mother.” Sherlock pointed out.

At this, Jane had to manage a wry smile. Sherlock was wrong. His conclusion made sense, but he was quite wrong.

“Yeah.” She lied.

She didn’t want Sherlock badgering her on what was wrong. As he walked and spoke about different theories on the case, Jane was lost in her own mind.

_“Tell my family I’m sorry.”_ She had avoided that. Jane didn’t know what to tell them. That Jo had put her life down for Jane, when it should’ve been Jane who had died. For weeks Jane had debated telling them. But in the end, she had decided not to. But…it had been a year. She had the family’s address. Jane owed it to the woman who sacrificed herself for Jane.

“Let’s go. Lestrade will most likely require certain documents-”

“-I-I can’t. I’m sorry, Sherlock. But I need to go home. I’m really sorry. Go by yourself for today?”

Now Sherlock was worried. Still, he decided against pushing the issue.

“Alright.” He agreed, getting in by himself. Sitting in the cab alone, Sherlock watched Jane hurry off, a growing look of worry spreading across her features. She was acting odd, and not due to lack of sleep. She had acted like this when Moriarty had kidnapped her. Distant, quiet, as if she were battling something. Wait… Frowning, Sherlock thought. She had returned to the UK at some point in December, and met him in January. She said she had been in the hospital for a while before she was well enough to return. That meant…this most likely was near the day that something had taken place in Afghanistan. 

***

Looking at the two letters in her hand, Jane sat on a bench near the post office. Neatly scrawled, she had written one to Jo’s parents, and the other, the fiancé. No return address was added on the envelope. She was too afraid to see them face to face. Jane didn’t want to know what they thought of her. Was there hatred, resentment? Or forgiveness?

In the letter, Jane apologised. She told them Jo’s last words. But in both letters, she had added her own apology to them. Jo’s last words were to tell you that she was sorry. _But it’s me who has to ask for your forgiveness. If there was some way to have saved her life, I would have._ Taking a deep breath, Jane got up and put both letters in.

Hanging her head, she backed away. Walking down the street, Jane’s mind was filled with nothing but memories. Good ones, bad ones, and how her life had changed since last year. Arriving home, Jane stopped by the door. This wasn’t Afghanistan anymore. This was her home. Jo had been right, that day. When she said that someone would love her someday, that she would find a home, a place in the world. Opening the door quietly, Jane quietly shut it and removed her jacket. Going up the stairs, Jane was surprised to see Sherlock.

“Hi…I thought you had to be at Lestrade’s.”

“I returned a few hours ago.”

“Hours?” She’d only said goodbye an hour ago, right?

Looking at her watch, Jane shook her head. Jane was losing track of time again. Sitting down, Jane didn’t look at Sherlock. She needed sleep, she needed something, anything to help her right now. Observing her, Sherlock didn’t know what to do. How could he console an inconsolable woman? Sherlock sat on the chair opposite her and went to his mind palace. Flipping through archives and memories, Sherlock tried to think of what to do.

At last, he reached the conclusion. Getting up, Sherlock boiled some water for tea. Pouring her and himself tea, he handed it down to her.

“Thank you.” Accepting the cup, Jane tried to laugh, but it came out as a huff.

“I’ve even worried you of all people.”

“Of course I’d have concerns, it’s your commanding officer’s death date.”

When Jane gave a shuddered sigh and looked down again, Sherlock took a sip of tea.. So much for trying to help her.

“Besides her parents and…fiancé…you’re the only one who remembers.”

Did no one contact her? An old army friend, not even John? Perhaps that was what she needed. Someone to know, to try and understand. Looking up briefly at the ceiling, Sherlock thought for a bit.

“Get your jacket.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going out.”

“But…I don’t really want to.”

“Yes, you do.” Getting her jacket, Sherlock forced her arms through it.

“Sherlock!” Struggling, Jane protested as he made her go down the stairs.

“I don’t bloody feel like going anywhere! Stop!”

Ignoring her, Sherlock kept going. After walking for nearly twenty minutes, Sherlock found what he wanted.

“Alright,” Going to an alley, Sherlock nodded at a ladder on the side of the building.

“Go up there.” “Okay, sir.” Jane witheringly said, climbing up. Once she reached the top, Jane looked around, half expecting to see a corpse of some sort.

“What? Why are we here?”

Nodding at the sky, Sherlock sit at the edge of the building. Looking up, Jane blinked in amazement. Stars. They could see stars, in London of all places.

“How..?”

“This place doesn’t have as much light. It’s easier to see the stars.”

“Oh…” Sitting by him, Jane let her feet dangle over the edge.

Tense, Sherlock kept his feet on the building.

“Are you…really scared of heights?” Jane asked, looking at how stiff he was.

“Nonsense.” Sherlock dismissed that theory with a shrug.

He took her up here, despite being wary of high places. Feeling bad for complaining about him taking her, Jane took his hand and held it.

“Thank you Sherlock.”

Putting her head on Sherlock’s shoulder, Jane felt at peace for the first time today.


	29. Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding Russian gangsters can be fun at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got an anonymous message for me to write something with Sherlock and Jane kissing. So, this is it. It doesn't have much of a plot, but more fluff for this one.

"So I am bait."

"More or less." Sherlock agreed.

"And what will you be doing?"

"Keeping an eye out for Kimlov. Remember, locus tattoo on his neck. We don't have him unless he has the tattoo. Remember that."

"But-how will you know when I find him?"

"Wink at him."

"Seriously? That's not a secure method."

"I’m sure you could manage. Besides, he has black hair, bulky, and a moustache. Isn't that hard to miss."

"Yeah, be bait and try and act like a slut." Sighing, Jane looked at her reflection. "I look disgusting." She was wearing a rather low cut black dress that accentuated her hips and breast, accompanied by heavy makeup and curled hair. On top of that, she was wearing a despicable pair of black heels.

"That's the point. Now go." Giving her a light push, Sherlock stayed back. "I'll come in five minutes after you come in."

Blowing out a shaky breath, Jane stepped into the loud club, music and lights blaring. She wasn't a good actress at all. By the time Sherlock came in, she'd be caught. Looking around, Jane walked over to the bar and gave her prettiest smile.

"Hello! A shot of Courvoisier." Nodding, the bar tender went to get her a glass. "And-ah-how much will it be?"

"Don't you worry about the price." Looking across the bar, a handsome man winked at her, then proceeded to take a seat next to her. "It's on me."

"Oh! You're so kind!" Jane attempted a giggle, but it came out forced. He had black hair, strong looking, and a sort of moustache.

Possibly be him? But he was the first man she'd spoken to. It couldn't be him.

"I get it. All these women, putting on an act. But, you don't have to around me, Love."

"Thank you." She smiled as the bartender set down her drink.

"So... what are you doing here tonight?" He asked as she pretended to drink.

"Mm... scoping things out." She smiled as she tried to get a good look at his neck. Unfortunately, it was buttoned too high to tell.

"Ah." Catching where Jane was looking, he smiled.

"What's your name?"

"Dolores," she replied, crossing her legs.

"What's yours?"

"Jacob." He smiled at her and took her hand.

"My, you're so forward." Jane smiled, putting her other hand over his.

"As are you." He purred.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was sure that Sherlock was glaring at him. _Probably thinking of some way to convict him regardless if he’s the criminal or not._

"Want to dance? Of course, after you're finished with your drink." Jacob suggested.

"I'm not here to drink, Darling." Standing up, Jane waited for him to get up.

Putting his hands on her hips, Jane smiled and put her hands on his shoulders. The sooner she could check if he had a tattoo the better. As the music started, Jane grimaced at the pressure of the man's hands on her hips. She hated the smell of alcohol and mint, the pulsing music, the lights, people. Hated the feeling of his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Putting her head on his shoulder, Jane tried to see if he had a tattoo. Curling her fingers around his collar, she pulled down, trying to make it look as if she were flirting. Peeking down, she saw no tattoos. All of this work, for absolutely nothing. As the song ended, she tried to pull away.

"Thank you for the drink and dance."

"Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?" He asked, taking her hand and pulling her back.

"I am feeling a little tired, I want to sit."

"Sit? Or get out of here?" Jacob suggestively asked.

"Ah-no-I'm alright, really." Alarm coursed through her as she again tried to pull back. She wanted to pin this guy down and bash his head in. However, due to the confinement of the tight dress, Jane was powerless.

"She said that she was finished." Jane could have cried when she heard Sherlock speak up.

"Yeah? Who are you?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked, putting his hand around her waist and pulling Jane to him. Glaring at Sherlock, the man huffed before stalking off.

"Thanks...no tattoo." Jane sighed unhappily. She still couldn't get the awful feeling of that man’s hands off of her.

"We need to keep looking. Did you drink the Courvoisier?"

"No. I'm not 'flirting' with anyone again though. Nearly went sour for me." Jane remarked, watching the retreating figure of the man. Noticing where she was looking, Sherlock frowned.

"Apparently." Keeping his hand on her waist, Sherlock led her to the side.

"Have you seen anyone who could be the boss?" Jane asked.

"No."

"Hey...a backroom perhaps?" She suggested.

"Backroom?"

"Yeah!"

"That doesn't actually happen." Sherlock dismissed the idea.

"It might. C'mon let's look." Sighing, Sherlock nodded and started walking again.

Sneaking past a bartender, there indeed was a backroom. Many backrooms with closed off rooms. Watching a woman lead a man into one of them, Sherlock and Jane awkwardly caught each other's gaze before looking away.

"Oh..." Looking embarrassed, Jane looked at the rooms again. "Might...be a bit busy..."

Blinking rapidly, Sherlock then gave a nonchalant shrug. "Then we wait."

"Let's go back. We-" Jane stammered.

"-Counterproductive. Let's go in here." Opening an empty room, Sherlock pulled Jane in with him and closed the door.

The room was so small that Jane at first was convinced it was a closet. When Sherlock told her it wasn't, she awkwardly sat across from him on the velvet bench. Knees touching his, Jane was reminded of the minuscule size.

"These doors aren't exactly soundproof. We will know when he will make his appearance." Sherlock remarked.

"Yeah. I don't know if he is our man or not. I thought that the other guy might possibly be him." Jane pointed out, her hand running over the velvet material idly.

"Is that why you were letting him manhandle you that way?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Obviously. I had to find the tattoo."

Quiet, Sherlock listened for footsteps outside.

"You're not...I don't know." Jane hesitated when Sherlock caught her eye.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's stupid." Jane tried to take back her question.

"Just spit it out." He sighed.

"Jealous?" Opening his mouth, Sherlock looked perfectly outraged.

"Do you think for a second I would actually be intimidated by that baboon? Think again, he was as classless as they come." Sherlock gave a bemused chuckle.

Laughing, Jane shook her head. "I didn't think so."

"Besides, I could do far better."

"Wha-?"

Leaning over, Sherlock placed both hands on her neck with his thumb brushing her hair, and fervently pressed his lips to hers. Her heart hammering in her ears as Jane felt his warm lips, Jane kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck as he moved his hands to her back.

"-Listen." Breaking the kiss, Sherlock nodded at the door, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

"What?" Jane asked, sliding her hands to his arms. Opening the door a crack, Sherlock stood up.

"That's him. Let's go." Sherlock said, brushing her off and stepped out.

***

With Kimlov arrested, Sherlock and Jane headed home.

"He had a surprisingly good swing." Sherlock commented, keeping the cold napkin on his split lip.

"It looks kind of swollen, does it hurt a good deal?"

"I've experienced worse. And... better." When Sherlock gave her a cheeky wink, Jane flushed and hit his arm.

"You are in a pretty interesting mood, aren't you? Alcohol get to you?"

"Didn't drink any."

"To much club and music."

"Hate those places. Too much you."

"I think I threw up in my mouth a little. Nice try though, trying to be romantic." Jane had to laugh at this attempt.

"Worth a try." Sherlock sheepishly shrugged.

"Save the pickup lines for those ditzes you might find in that awful place." Jane snorted.

"Agreed."

"Still-you must admit I was correct! The backrooms are where the criminals end up."

"I suppose they are. However, Kimlov is only one. And he's not the main criminal we are searching for. I believe he is only a puppet on a string."

"Figures." "Still, it wasn't a complete waste to go there." Sherlock smiled at her again.

"Stop. It isn’t so unusual to kiss your girlfriend, is it?” Laughing, Sherlock winced at his lip. Jane’s smile turned to a concerned one as she took his face in her hands. "Here, let me see." Pulling the him down, Jane grimaced at the swollen state. "You need to pack that on ice."

“I suppose I do.”

Looking down at her, Sherlock gave the smallest smile and his hands went lightly on her forearms.  
"What?" Jane asked.

"Nothing." Releasing her, he kept walking.

“Dinner? I think that Chinese place you like is still open?” Jane asked.

“Starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't often write kissing scenes often, so feedback would be welcome! Thank you!


	30. Unconventionally Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Sherlock know how to defeat the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this?? A short story??? Writer's block has been awful to me as of late. In honor of the freezing weather we have been having, I hope you cold weather lovers enjoy!

"Have you tried turning it on and off?"  
"That's for electronic devices, not for furnaces!" Sherlock growled, twisting a screw.  
"Look, maybe you should just call someone who actually knows what they are doing." Jane suggested, putting the wrench into his open hand.  
"Why waste 500 pounds?"  
"You have spent 550 pounds on potatoes once." Jane pointed out dryly.  
Glaring up at her, Sherlock snorted and looked down at his work. "That was different."  
"Why don't you let me look at it instead? I've dealt with broken down cars before."  
"Cars and furnaces are two different things. Besides, you tried to fix Mrs. Hudson's toaster, and you nearly killed us all."  
Looking up in irritation, Jane heaved a sigh. At last, Sherlock stood up, stretching.   
"Let's test it then. Go upstairs and turn on the heat. And hurry up!"  
Raising an eyebrow, Jane went slowly up the stairs, her feet dragging with each step. Turning it on, she heard a boomf! come from downstairs.   
"That doesn't sound right." Jane remarked, jogging down the stairs.  
"Tea towel! Go get some!" Sherlock yelled, the smell of smoke wafting up the stairs.  
Running to Mrs. Hudson's flat, Jane hurried in and grabbed two and dashed down the stairs. Snatching one from her, Sherlock beat out the small fire, while Jane tried to wave off the smoke. Going up the stairs, Jane handed Sherlock her mobile.   
"Wouldn't hurt to make a phone call."  
Defeated, Sherlock grudgingly accepted the phone from her and dialled in the repair man's number. After arguing with the man on the other line, Sherlock hung up.   
"He won't be able to get to it until tomorrow." Sherlock growled.  
"But it's freezing outside! It's below freezing!" Jane said in alarm.   
Shivering in the cold flat, Jane and Sherlock went back up the stairs.  
"I'll be back. I'm getting changed into something warmer. Much warmer."  
Changing into her thickest sweater, two pairs of socks, and a pair of sweatpants, Jane felt only slightly better. The wind screamed through the cracks in window panes and under the doors, making their flat all the more colder.  
"It could be worse." Jane commented, wrapping her red and blue hands around her favourite mug. "Power could be out and most of our windows smashed in." Jane noted.  
Rubbing his chapped hands together, Sherlock scowled. He was cold, and not in the mood for small talk. Adding the fact they hadn't had a case in nearly three days, he felt on edge. As if she could read his thoughts, Jane smirked and looked outside at the snow.   
"I don't think anyone would want to murder in this weather."  
"I am surprised that you of all people would make that comment." Sherlock dryly commented.  
"You're right." Jane chuckled. "Sounds like something you would say. I think you might be rubbing off on me."  
"This actually would be a perfect scenario for a murder. To cold for anyone to be walking about, giving him perfect discretion."  
"True," Jane said, getting up. "But I don't think the murderer would last long out there either. I predict we'd find him frozen a few blocks away." With that, Jane dropped a kiss on the back of Sherlock's neck.  
Blinking, Sherlock looked up at her.   
"Why did you do that?"  
Blushing, Jane raised her hands in defence.  
"Uh...I do believe that's something girlfriends do." Hesitating, she looked at him once more. "You don't like it?"  
"No!" Realising it sounded as if he were he were agreeing, Sherlock continued. "I do like it."  
"Oh. Well. Alright."  
Taking her book, Jane heaped blankets on her and sat on the couch. Watching the couch, a part of Sherlock wanted to join her. After all, it was so cold his toes were going a bit numb. Catching his eye, Jane smiled.  
"Want to join me?"  
"It's practical." Sherlock sniffed, walking over.   
Scooting over, Jane made room for him. Laying down, Sherlock lay his head down in her lap and put his hands together and closed his eyes.  
Surprised, Jane looked down at him. It was very rare when Sherlock was actually keen on cuddling. Of course, Sherlock would rather hang than admit it was "cuddling". He would have some technical term for it, that would passively deviate from the fact that it was in fact, cuddling.   
Cracking an eye open, Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
"It helps me think."  
Smiling, Jane ran her hand affectionately through his curls before returning to her world in the book.  
Smiling to herself, Jane flipped through the pages on this unconventionally perfect afternoon.


	31. No One Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Jane's childhood isn't the primary focus of the stories, though important, I won't be putting it in the main arc. So, I have decided to go ahead and pen down her childhood. I wish I had enough material to write Sherlock's backstories down, but I am waiting for series four to come out. I hope you all enjoy!

A few days after the official divorce, Jane finished packing up her suitcase.  
Putting her last article clothing in her bag, Jane looked around. Looking around her small room, she felt awful. She had grown up in this town, this house. As long as she could remember, this was her one place she had been sure to always return to. A picture of her family together under the Big Ben tower caught her eye. Taking it, she gently hugged it to her chest, her heart bereft.  
A knock on the door, and John entered.  
"Ready?" He asked in a gentle tone.  
Nodding slightly, Jane slung the heavy bag over her shoulder and followed John.  
Sliding into the backseat, she looked one last time at her home, before Jane forced herself to look away and at the road ahead.  
Jane remembered that trip so well. Harry sat sullenly, listening to his tapes. John in his wind suit at the front seat, and finally her Mum. It was the first time Jane had seen her without those rings on her beautiful fingers. She remembered how tired she looked. When they drove through the night, Jane was certain she saw tears on her Mum’s cheeks.   
***  
"Mum! Can you check my homework??" Jane hopefully asked, getting up from the table to chase after her mother who just got home from work.  
Looking at her mother, Jane frowned at the dark circles under her mother's eyes.  
"Not today Jane. I'm going to bed children. Goodnight."  
Harry harrumphed and stalked off to his room, slamming the door behind him, leaving his mother behind.  
"But Mum!" Jane cried, reaching out and grabbing her mother's hand.  
"It's only seven! And besides, you haven't eaten!" Jane argued, hope shining in the young girl's eyes.  
"I'm not hungry." Her mother said listlessly, her numb hand slipped from Jane as she closed herself up in her dark room.  
Sitting quietly at the table, Jane then focused on solving her long division. How she hated long division. Although she was quite old, perhaps still a little young for division, Jane decided.  
After finishing homework, Jane observed the house and sighed. There was vacuuming that needed to be done, the dishes were piled high, it hadn't been swept in a long time judging by the dirt and crumbs that gathered. But...that was Mum's job. She'd do it....right?  
Sighing, Jane picked up the broom and started sweeping away the crumbs. If no one else would, then it would be her. If her mother saw the clean house, then perhaps, perhaps she would be herself again. Everything was going to be alright. She just knew it.

***  
Staring at his folded hands, John sighed. He knew what was going on between his parents for months now. He did his best to keep it in the dark from Jane and Harry. But now...it was over. Dad up and left them, Mum's heart in pieces. And the kids?  
Shaking his head bitterly, John huffed a laugh. His parents could care less about them. Day by day, he watched his mother brush Harry and Jane away like old shoes. He watched Jane longingly stare at the door, a little part of her hoping her Dad would swoop in and make it all better. But he'd never come. John doubted they'd ever see him again.   
He watched Jane ponder over her school. Who'd take care of her now? She didn't even know it, but she was now alone. No parents to care for her anymore. Well...if his parents wouldn't...why not himself? This lost, lonely girl needed someone more than ever. And what kind of brother would he be if he didn't come to her aid?   
Getting up, he sat down next to her at the kitchen table.  
"Hi John. Do you need something?"  
"No...No, I was just wondering if you need help with your school." Grinning, Jane nodded and showed him a problem.  
"Uh huh! Number two, the teacher didn't explain it well at all!"   
Watching her smile and chat away, John’s heart grew heavy. How on earth could he raise a ten year old kid?   
***  
"Jane?" Sitting up in bed, Jane tilted her head to the side.  
"Yeah?" Looking through her drawers, John frowned.  
"Where...are all your clothes?" Sighing, she hopped out of bed and padded over.  
"They were getting to small, so I had to give them away." She said unhappily.  
How much did she grow? Aside from her uniform, pyjamas, and a shirt or two, the girl had nothing.  
"Why hasn't Mum taken you to get new stuff?" He demanded.  
"She..." Lowering her eyes, Jane didn’t answer.   
“Jane, why isn’t Mum getting you any clothes?”  
"...Said she didn't have time to take me." Jane reluctantly answered.   
Unbelievable. His mother was just unbelievable. How could she act like this to her own daughter??  
"Well, go get dressed. We'll eat out today, and I'll get you new clothes."  
"But John! We haven't got enough money to eat out, you know that! And I don't need clothes, I have some."  
"Exactly. Some. No more arguments, be down in ten."   
Fifteen minutes later, Jane happily nattered away to John as they walked down the chilly stone street.  
It was little things, about how she fancied Michael, how she vigorously practiced the clarinet, and how she was sad that she’d gotten a low grade on the spelling test.  
Still, it was important. The talks she had with John was what would stay with her, all her life.   
***  
He didn't like this. John did not like the idea of leaving Jane alone, with just his brother, and their neglecting mother. Still...he wanted to go. John was sixteen, it wasn't wrong to want to go to Plymouth. It was only an hour away after all.   
"...And you remember the number to the bedsit me and my mates will be at?”  
“Yeah! Want me to recite it!”  
“Er, no thanks.” She’d already recited it at least thirty times now.   
“Right! Do you have your toothbrush?”  
“Yup.”  
“Pyjamas?”  
“Yup.”  
“A little teddy bear?” Jane teased.   
“Yu-hey now!” Giggling Jane skipped around.  
“You are so lucky! I wish I could go!” Jane pouted.   
“Next time I’ll take you. I promise.”  
“Yay!!!” She cheered, before erupting into a coughing fit.  
“Oi, you alright?” John asked, the humour leaving his voice.   
“Yeah…I just haven’t been feeling too good lately…” She sighed softly.   
“You have a slight fever.” John scowled, checking her forehead.  
“I’ll be okay! I’ll take some medicine.” Jane promised him, smiling.  
Hearing a car honk, John noticed his friends outside.  
“Alright, I’m off. Love you.” Kissing her cheek hastily, John hurried out.

***  
It was the most fun he’d had in years. Watching a game on the Telly, flirting with a girl or two, not having to listen to his Mum. Still…it’d been three days, and he hadn’t heard from any of them. But then, no news, is good news, right? Besides, he just wanted five days to not have to worry over Jane, or yell at Harry. Was it wrong really to have some freedom every now and again? But that night, he got a call.   
“Hello?”  
“John???  
“Harry-what’s wrong?”  
“I’m-kinda worried ‘bout Jane…”  
“What? Why?”  
“She’s been coughing and wheezing a lot lately, an’ she kept crying about an ear ache. But-but Mum thinks that she’s faking being sick! But Jane’s-sick. I’m-I’m worried, John.”  
“Well she’s definitely got a cold, so just get her some cold medicine, and she’ll be alright.”  
“I don’t think it’s a cold, John.” Harry’s tone grew muted.   
“…Why not?”  
“She’ll breathe, then stop. And then she’ll breathe again. Jane just stops breathing altogether.” Heart skipping a beat, John tried to think of what to do.  
“Harry. Call a doctor. This might be pretty serious. Has she had any medicine?”  
“Nope.”  
“Why not?!” John exploded.   
“Well for one, that’s Mum’s job, not mine! And two-”  
“-Harry, I am not up for the snarky mood. Hang up, and call the bloody doctor!”

***  
A severe RSV. Her fever was at 38.8 and still her Mum hadn’t taken her to the doctors.  
“John?” Jane sleepily asked in the doctor’s office.   
“Hey. How are you feeling?”  
“My-my chest hurts a lot.” She whispered hoarsely.  
Frowning at how blue Jane’s lips were, John clenched his fists. How could their Mother be like this? He understood the pain of losing their father, but it was too much to just ignore her child’s dire need.   
“Just…try and get some sleep for now, okay?”  
“’kay.”   
Once she was home, the first thing John ordered her to do was sleep after a dinner of chicken broth and juice. Once he was certain she was asleep for the night, he went looking for their Mum.  
“38.8, no medication, her lips turned blue!!” John shouted, slamming the doctor’s report on her bed.  
“John, please-”  
“What were you thinking?! You realise that Jane isn’t exactly the strongest kid out there, and then she got RSV? She could have gotten far worse if I had been gone any longer!!”   
Taking off her reading glasses, Jane’s mother slid her slender fingers through her soft golden hair.  
“John, I was going to take her to the doctors’ office had it gotten worse by this evening.”  
“How would you have known? You always work, or you’re in your room.”   
Hurt, Dolores looked seriously at John.  
“…You may not know it, but I care deeply for each and every one of you. I truly do.”  
“Then why don’t you ever go and see Jane’s clarinet recitals? Why don’t you ever go watch Harry’s rugby? That is, before he got booted off because he got caught drinking?”  
“Wha-what?”  
“Yeah, you didn’t know about that. I think you see my point, yeah?”   
Getting up, John stalked out of the room.

***  
He raised her those years. There was sorrow, but more cheer than sadness. Jane gradually forgot her father, and accepted that her mother did not want her. She learned how to care for Harry when he got drunk, and how to treat her Mum when she was angry. But one day, the day came. It was time for John to go to University. He’d worked hard for the London scholarship, and now it was time to leave home, and leave Jane with her brother and Mum.  
"Can I walk you to the bus station?" Jane asked, taking John's hand.  
"Of course."   
Walking hand in hand, Jane sighed. He was leaving her to, but he'd come back. It still hurt though.  
"I'll miss you." She murmured.  
"I'll miss you to."  
"No you won't. You'll be having too much fun."  
"Not true, Brat." He said affectionately.  
"It is so! You'll get friends, girlfriends, and you'll forget me!"  
"How could I forget you?"  
"You might." She said in a little voice.   
Stopping his steps, he looked down at the eleven year old girl.  
"Jane Watson, you won't be forgotten. I'm calling you as much as I can, and I visit once a month. Unless, you want me to stay."   
Shaking her head, she made him keep walking.  
"No. I want you to go to London. I want you to actually escape this small town. Someday, I'm gonna escape to, and neither of us will ever have to go back to this crummy place."  
"What about Mum?"  
"What about her? She doesn't remember I exist."  
"She does to." John said sternly.  
"Yeah right. I've been trying to get her to talk to me for two years, and she barely talks to me. It's-it's like I'm talking to a stranger! And Harry, he's always in trouble, I think he's getting into bad stuff." Sighing, John waited for his bus.  
"If Harry gets out of hand, call me, I'll take care of it."  
"John, I'm scared."  
"Why?" When she said nothing, John felt worried.  
"Jane, why are you scared?"   
Feeling tears burn in her eyes, she threw her arms around John.  
"Be-because you're the only person who loves me, and-and now I'm all alone!!!"  
"No, you're not. Look, I know it's tough. I know you feel alone. But, you will always have your big brother. Okay?"  
"Okay.”  
***  
"Where were you?" Jane heard her mother say from the kitchen table.  
Glaring at her mother, the fifteen year old flipped her hair over her shoulder. She was fifteen years old and not obligated to tell her non-existent Mum these things.  
"Why would you care?" She asked, taking off her grey backpack.  
"Because, I'm your Mum, and I am worried about you!" Jane looked taken aback for a second before managing a churlish laugh.  
"Oh now you do? Finally felt like it was convenient to start acting like a mum again?" Jane asked, shaking her head angrily.  
By this time, John and Harry were graduated and long gone, leaving Jane alone in the house with her mother as her only company.  
"Jane. It’s not easy. Being a mum. And-and I'm sorry!"  
Shaking her head, Jane stamped up the stairs, slamming the door.  
***  
"Jane...that's it." Jane turned from closing the door one week later to look at her tired mother, and the angry, almost hateful look in her eye.  
"What's what?" Jane asked, furrowing her brow.  
"Go upstairs, and go pack your bags." Jane felt a stabbing alarm in her heart.  
"Wha-what? But why?"  
"I'm done with this. With you never telling me where you go at night, always wondering, always worrying. Just...go upstairs and pack. You're going to live with your dad from now on."  
"You're really kicking me out? After all I've done??" Jane echoed in disbelief.  
"And what have you done for me Jane? What? You have done nothing but cause me trouble! I can't do this anymore!"  
"Wow. I took care of you for three years, and this is what I get. Thanks Mum. I see how it is." Jane said, trudging up the stairs.  
Flopping down on her bed, she picked up the phone and dialled John's number.  
"Jane...? What's going on...?" John asked sleepily.  
"She-she's kicking me out John....oh gosh, she's actually kicking me out...." Jane said slowly, the anger melting to shock and realization.   
"What?" John asked, startled awake.  
"Mum said that she had enough and-and I have to go live with Dad."  
"What? Jane slow down, why?"  
"She's tired of me going out at night and being uncooperative. I just-"  
"Jane, why did you do all of that?"  
"Because-" Her voice cracked again and she cleared her throat. "-I thought that Mum would finally notice me-I mean, it made her notice Harry so-so I thought..." She mumbled, clenching her fist so tightly that it hurt.   
"Oh Jane....oh Jane." Was all John could manage.  
"I-I'm so stupid John....s-s-so stupid..." She managed, wanting to lay down and cry.   
Even now though, Jane would not cry. Crying didn't solve anything.  
"Jane..."  
"I...it's alright though...everything will be alright.”  
***  
“It’s for the best.” Jane’s Mum said, patting her hand.  
Jerking her hand as if she’d been stung, Jane looked at the ground in shame.  
“Let’s go Jane.” Her father said, opening the door for her.  
Sitting in the front, Jane immediately turned on her cassette player, cutting off any chance for her father to even speak with her. Her Mum had abandoned her. Left her with this man, who she had to call a father. They hadn’t spoken since she was nine. He didn’t care about her. The only reason he took her was because he felt guilty.   
“Jane, I just want to say-”  
“-Sorry? Sorry for just-leaving, not ever being there for us? Harry went to rehab Dad!!! And you don’t even care!” Huffing, she turned up the cassette to deafening volumes.  
***  
She had enough. Once again, her father and Jane had a fight, but today, it was about Mum. She found out why they divorced. He cheated. It all made sense to Jane now. Why her mother locked herself away from the world, the sudden move, everything. How could he? How could he do this to mum, to the family? She couldn't stay under the same roof of this adulterer any longer.   
Throwing some jeans in her backpack, took fifty five quid and shrugged her backpack over her shoulder.  
Slipping open her window, she got out quietly, and landed on the soft grass, the cold chill of the night seeping through her sweatshirt. Where would she go? She wasn't sure. But she knew one thing. She hated it here, and she couldn't stay another minute.   
She had wandered around all night, and all the next day. It was cold, but she didn’t care anymore. Jane had nowhere to go anymore. If she ever went back, she doubted anyone would want anything to do with her. Except John. He must be worried sick no doubt. If there was anyone she could go to, it’d be John. He’d understand. Probably wouldn’t even have blamed her for running away.  
Putting in spare change for the phone booth, Jane waited for the phone to pick up.  
“John Watson.”  
“Hey.”   
Silence.  
“Where have you been?”  
“Out. I needed to think.”  
“Where are you?! Everyone is worried sick!”  
“Salisbury. 32nd street.”  
“Wait there. And don’t even think about moving. I’m picking you up.”  
“John, I can explain-”  
“-Just don’t.”  
Click.  
***  
“I can’t believe you Jane. I told you, I told you to be strong! Told you to hang in there. And did you? Oh no, you had to go and do a stupid thing like run away. Because that solves problems.”  
“John-”  
“-No. You know what? Shut up. For nearly six years, I have done the best I could, to raise you and Harry. Have I been the best caretaker? No! Do I know anything about teenage kids? NO! Should I have picked up a book on parenting? Probably. I just-don’t even know anymore. Was it something I did?”  
“N-no. Just…Dad…cheated on Mum?”  
“You…found out?”  
“Yeah. I…had no idea, got angry, and left. I’m sorry John. I didn’t want you to stay worried, that-it’s why I called you.”  
“I can’t help this time Jane. I’m sorry. But I’ll be with you every step of the way.”  
***  
"You were the one in charge!! How?! How could you let this happen?!?" Jane heard her mother shriek.  
"You're the one who brought her up for the past five years!! It's your fault!!"  
"My fault! Well, what about-" Giving an aggravated sigh, Jane stalked up to her room, their voices somewhat less present.   
Hearing a knock, Jane turned to see Clara and John standing there.   
"Clara, John." She greeted them vaguely, before sitting.  
"How are you feeling Jane?" Clara asked gently, sitting down next to her.  
Jane gave an angry smile and shook her head.  
"Oh fine. You know, Mum and Dad are fighting because of me, I screwed everything up. I'm great."  
"Jane, you know that isn't true. Why didn't you talk to me, or John?" Clara asked, smiling sadly.  
"I don't know." Jane mumbled.  
"Jane, look, it isn't too late. We can fix this family. It’ll just take time." John said, looking down at her.  
"Family? What family?" Jane spat. "The one dear old dad broke apart??? Oh yeah, that old family! That old family that will never be the same again!"   
"Jane, that's not true...."   
"Oh what does it matter?! What does any of it matter anymore?!?" Jane screamed, before walking to the picture of her family...and smashing it.  
"Jane!" Jane then threw herself to the ground and let out a broken sob.   
For the first time in so long, Jane cried. She cried for John, for her mother, for herself. She cried at the loss of a family so beyond prepare it was hopeless. She cried because there was no one, no one in this world who would ever love her for who she was, and would not care about her broken past.   
Silently, Clara got up and left Jane to cry alone. Jane didn't care. It was too embarrassing for people to see her cry. Nothing was going to be alright. Nothing.


	32. Whether he likes it or not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock hates the idea of a Christmas tree. Abhors it. However, Jane has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-nd the story if finally updated! In honor of the upcoming Holiday, I've decided to upload this. If I have time, I'll try and make another Christmas short.

"We are not getting a tree. And that is final." Sherlock said, reading his book.

"Yeah? And what makes you think that? This is my flat too! And last time I checked, this flat is co-owned." Jane argued.

"Yes, and as it’s mine as well, I ought to have a say in what we do with our flat. I hate Christmas trees, never liked them. Because I hate Christmas trees, why must I look at one until January?”

“Sherlock, I have news for you. There are some things in this flat that I cannot stand.”

“Such as?” Sherlock asked, snapping his book down.

“Such as, let’s see, eating my breakfast by _cat intestines._ That’s always great. And sorry to be the one to tell you this mate, but your antelope skeleton…it’s horrid. I could give you a few other items, but I believe my point has been taken.”

Affronted, Sherlock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“So, forgive me if I would like to have a festive decoration in the flat for once.”

“Forgiven.” Sherlock tartly replied, re-opening the book.

“I’m glad we agree for once. Because, whether you like it or not, I am getting myself a Christmas tree."

"Fine. I don't want to see it however."

"Trees are large. You think I'll keep it in my room? It's going in here!"

"Putting that hideous tree in your room would be better. Unless, you would like to see the tree 'accidentally' engulfed in flames."

"You are _not_ setting the tree on fire." Jane vehemently said.

"NO tree." Sherlock snapped, picking up his book again.

"Yeah?" Jane asked, getting up. "Well, we shall see."

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Out."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock watched Jane hail a cab from the window. From the moment he saw her looking for Christmas tree plantations, he knew he was doomed. Whether he wanted it or not, a Christmas tree would be in 221B.

***

Shivering in the cold, Jane wrapped her jacket tighter around her. Mrs. Hudson was right, she should of a least worn gloves.

"How about this one?" The man was asking her.

"A bit on the small side." Jane replied after inspecting it. "Anything larger?"

"Got a beauty right in the back." He replied, jogging off. As he dragged it over, Jane knew she found her tree. It would fit right along with her scheme.

"Yes, this one." Checking the price, Jane grimaced before fishing out her wallet.

Since she had not properly had Christmas in nearly four years, she would make sure the flat was nicely decorated. If it meant being a little pricey, so be it. Tying it on top of the taxi, Jane drove home, eager to see Sherlock's expression. Whether he liked it or not, Sherlock would help her decorate for Christmas. Although he would throw the hissy fit of the season. Arriving at the flat, Jane began dragging the tree up the stairs. Hearing Sherlock walk to the top of the stairs, Jane suppressed her grin.

"I thought we had discussed this earlier, Jane."

"You discussed it," Jane corrected him, bringing it up another step.

"I just calmly listened." Letting out a stream of air out of his nose, Sherlock gave her an annoyed look.

"Naturally you would get the largest tree you could find."

"Naturally. It wouldn't be like me to get a Charlie Brown one."

"A what?"

"Nothing."

"Where will we put this gargantuan of a tree?" Sherlock spit out the last word angrily.

"Working on that. Just let me get it up the stairs first." Jane grunted. Watching Jane put the tree in a tacky and illogical spot, Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

"You don't like it?" Jane asked.

"Of course I don't like this tree. It's abominable."

"Thanks for that. It will look better with the ornaments."

"I'm not helping you decorate." Sherlock defiantly said as Jane bustled around him.

"I'm not asking you to. It's not your tree anyhow." Jane answered casually, looking through the ornaments.

"Hoo-hoo!! A little help?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she dragged up the ornaments.

As Jane ran to assist the elderly woman, Sherlock saw his chance and took it. Picking up the tree, he lugged it to a more practical spot, which was by the left window. It would obscure views of nosy neighbours, and practicality of the tree's positioning. Re-entering the room, Jane arched an eyebrow, but made no comment as Mrs. Hudson and herself put the ornament box on the sofa.

"And here's the rest of the ornaments! Took me some digging to find them though. Because of my hip, I've had quite a time decorating my tree. Frank and I had a tree...we used to decorate it every year." Mrs. Hudson sighed, fingering one of the ornaments. "I'm sure your Christmas trees were all fantastic." Jane grinned as she examined the old ornaments.

"I'd help now, but my hip and I are having quite the afternoon!" Mrs. Hudson gave an apologetic laugh as she made her way down the stairway.

"Right, on to decorating."

Putting on soft Christmas music, Jane hummed along with it as she strung up the tree. Eyeing her from behind his book, Sherlock noticed all the bare spots she was leaving. Noticing the ornaments that were to close together, Sherlock audibly grit his teeth. "Almost done. You want to make us some tea?" Jane asked.

"Almost done? You barely decorated the top half!"

"Oh? I can barely reach it though. I'm not going to kill myself to have a fully decorated tree." Jane shrugged his complaints off, and continued to decorate.

Irritated, Sherlock got up and snatched an ornament from her. "For God's sake." Sherlock muttered, reaching up to decorate the taller part.

"Thought you weren't going to decorate?" She cheekily inquired. 

"If I have to see this atrocity in my living room for a month, I'd prefer it sparsely decorated." Sherlock retorted, putting a plastic snowman on.

"Very well, General, lead on." Giving her the side eye, Sherlock continued decorating.

"You're silently judging me aren't you?"

"It's a bit of a hobby I have."

Glaring back at him, Jane put yet another reindeer on the tree. The extravagant amount of reindeer was appalling to Sherlock.

"The last Christmas I had was years ago. I never had the chance to do this, for years. Finally got a home to decorate, so might as well do it." Jane said, as a way of explaining her enthusiasm.

As Jane prattled on, Sherlock subtly slipped the reindeer off and replaced them with snowflakes.

"We need a star." Jane finally said after examining the tree.

"Why would we need a star?"

"It's not a tree if there isn't something on top." Jane pointed out. Thinking for a moment, Sherlock took Yorick off the mantle and stuck him on top.

"Seriously?" Jane asked.

"As the plague."

Remembering it took a miracle and a half to even take notice of the tree, Jane decided it would be the great compromise and went on to make coffee. Drinking coffee, Jane proudly looked at the decorations, while Sherlock wondered why he let himself get conned into this. Recognising the expression, Jane smirked and took a second sip of coffee.

"You drag and coerce me into cases constantly Holmes. Thought I'd have a bit of fun for once."

"I don't do that. I merely offer you something you can never resist."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"Thrill of the chase."

"And I offer you something you can't resist."

"Oh?"

"The opportunity to tell someone how wrong they are." Jane sniggered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any Christmas-y requests, I'd be happy to write it! Thanks for reading!


	33. Gift of the Sleuths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jane plus Holiday shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!! I hope you are all having a lovely day! I decided to name it "Gift of the Sleuths", which is a spinoff of "Gift of the Magi"

"We need to find some decor for our flat first, then were getting something for Lestrade, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson. I'm getting my family gifts, and you're on your own for that part." Jane listed on her fingers, walking quickly. Unhappily following behind her, Sherlock looked bored and indifferent.

"And why are you in such a Scroogish mood?"

"You _did_ drag me out of the house on this dull shopping trip. More to the point, why do you always refer to Charles Dickens character when referring to me?"

"I live to get on your last bit of nerves, that's why. And I didn’t press a gun into your ruddy back, you came out of your own free will. If you don't want to be here, go home."

When Sherlock didn't reply to that, Jane took the wadded list out of her pocket. "I need to go to the craft store first."

Not willing to admit that he would prefer Jane to pay attention to him, rather than sit home alone, Sherlock continued trailing behind her.

"Need fairy lights, some ornaments, oh! Sherlock, do you fancy coloured lights?"

Before Sherlock could reply, she went on to her next state of business. "We also need to do something for the mantle, and it'd be nice if we could get a Santa hat for Yorick!"

"Don't put one of those ridiculous hats on my skull."

"He's already on the tree. How much more ridiculous could Yorick look? You should wear antlers."

"No."

His sane flatmate had been replaced with a frenzied squirrel. And people called him the insufferable one.

"What do you want to get Lestrade?" Jane was asking him.

"A better degree in forensics." Sherlock snorted.

"I was going to suggest a coffee mug, but that also works."

Exchanging glances, they both erupted into laughter.

"I wouldn't want to see Lestrade's expression if you said that around him!" Jane laughed, clutching her ribs.

"It wouldn't be nearly as ridiculous as the face you're making right now." Sherlock chuckled.

"I-I'll take that as a compliment!" Jane giggled, wiping her eye. 

"Besides, I don't give out 'Christmas presents'."

"Why not?"

"They don't serve any purpose."  
"Besides being nice?" Jane asked, subtly sliding antlers into the basket.

"Do you honestly see me handing out presents to everyone I know?" Sherlock asked, taking the antlers out of the basket and putting them back.

"No. but you should at least give Mrs. Hudson a present." Jane responded, putting the antlers back in the basket.

"And she would like?” Sherlock asked, reaching for the antlers. Taking the antlers, Jane put it on his head.

"The satisfaction of you wearing antlers."

" _You_ just want to see me wearing antlers."

"Oh I already have, as you're wearing them now." Jane chuckled at the sight. Looking in a nearby mirror, Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust. He looked absolutely absurd.

"A triple homicide would be nice." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"On Christmas? I think not."

"You would be pleasantly surprised. The amount of murders that happen on Christmas is riveting." Hearing his sentence, several people's glances swung their way.

"Charming. I'll keep that in mind for the next few days."

Finishing their shopping, Jane and Sherlock left the store. Hearing a familiar booming laugh, Jane grinned.

"Looks like Father Christmas found his way-Sherlock?" Sherlock was gone.

Cursing, Jane looked around for Sherlock. Where did he even run off to??

"How about a nice juicy _murder_ for Christmas? That would be lovely! Also, there is no such thing as a Father Christmas, as this man has an alcoholic problem and recently released from prison."

Going pale, Jane glared at Sherlock. What was he doing?? She knew taking him shopping wasn't the brightest of ideas. Hearing children erupt into crying and mother's yelling at Sherlock, Jane slowly exhaled and walked over to Sherlock.

" _What_ are you doing?" Jane hissed.

"Spreading holiday cheer." Sherlock snidely replied.

***

"No cab fare." Sherlock commented.

"We are being escorted home by the police. We now, thanks to you, have a restraining order from the shops!" Jane raised her voice at the end, before huffing and looking out the window.

"You only shop there around three times a year, I don't understand the problem."

"The problem is, _Sherlock_ , that I have never been removed from a shop, and now we've been banned from one, because Sherlock Holmes finds terrorizing kids an okay thing to do!" Pulling up, Jane got out of the cab, leaving Sherlock to pay the fee.

***

A few days later, it was finally Christmas Eve. Sitting in their chairs, Jane and Sherlock gave Mrs. Hudson her gift while they opened their own. Opening the present, Sherlock instantly wished he hadn't. It was an atrociously green Christmas sweater. And worse, it had his initials in a crimson red stamped on the front. Looking at Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock deduced that she had spent many a late night making this. He also remembered Jane's more recent lectures on "niceness". Putting the fact that Jane had been so pressing on this matter, he knew she had been in on it as well.

"Thank you." Sherlock grunted, sliding the thick and woolly sweater over his head.

Christmas Eve. Since Jane insisted on having a party on Christmas Day, they were having a smaller party today. Party after party. It was honestly enough to make a man go mad.

"Oh, and here's one for you, Jane." Mrs. Hudson handed Jane a wrapped box sprinkled with Christmas trees.

Opening the box, Jane grinned when she got her own sweater. This one was red with white reindeers all across it, along with white initials.

"It has reindeers! Thank you Mrs. Hudson!" Jane gratefully said, slipping it over her T-shirt. Why Jane was utterly smitten with reindeers, he'd never know.

"You like your sweater?" Jane asked Sherlock.

"-yes." Sherlock haltingly answered.

"I'll go get my camera!" Mrs. Hudson excitedly said, going down the stairs. At the mention of the camera, Sherlock grimaced. Noticing his disgruntled expression, Jane snorted and ruffled his hair.

"Do it for Christmas spirit."

"And I suppose you find it easy?"

"I do a bit, yeah."

"As you wear atrocious sweaters on a daily basis, I doubt this is any different."

"Oi. My sweaters aren't that bad." Begging to differ, Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Mrs. Hudson, you haven't opened your gift yet!" Jane reminded Mrs. Hudson, sliding over her present.

"From both of you?" She asked in delight and surprised.

"Yeah. We sort of pooled our money together." Opening her present, Mrs. Hudson gave a happy laugh.

"Oh!" Her own laptop. Watching Mrs. Hudson prattle on about it, Jane looked over at Sherlock and smiled.

"See? Was it really such a bad idea?" Jane silently asked.

"Perhaps not." Sherlock agreed with a slight nod.

Helping her set it up was an entirely different matter. As Jane and Sherlock were chatting, Mrs. Hudson poked her head in.

"Ah, Sherlock? I think I set it to a different language on accident?" Mrs. Hudson brought it in for the fourth time and set it on Sherlock's lap.

"How did you accidentally set it to Lithuanian?" Sherlock growled, looking it over. "Jane, in my room, under my bed there's a Lithuanian vocabulary book. Do go get it."

"How do you just happen to have a Lithuanian vocabulary book?" Jane asked, shaking her head as she got up.

"I just so happen to spend my empty hours with useful activities, unlike you."

Shrugging off his insult, Jane looked under his bed. Finding it, Jane was pulling it out when her hand brushed against something else.

"What..?" A wrapped up package for her. Did Sherlock actually get her a gift? That was very unlike him. But, it could be like her birthday present, (which was a essay explaining how all her friends secretly hated her. That was lovely.) but, after the scolding he'd gotten from Mrs. Hudson and Clara, she sincerely doubted it. Still...what could be in that package?

"Surely you could manage to find one simple thing!" She heard Sherlock shout.

"Coming!!" Jane yelled, shoving the other package under the bed.

"Here. Decode away."

Ten minutes later, they were back to English. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs surfing the web, and Jane and Sherlock were discussing their most recent case. Maybe Jane could get Sherlock to fork over the gift now? Besides...her gift to Sherlock was a bit more personal.

_Squinting into the microscope, Sherlock pulled away so he could rub his red eyes and was at it again. Setting down a fresh cup of tea, Jane sat down and kept making logs on the drugs they were studying._

_"You know Sherlock...you've been doing this for nearly five hours. You want me to take a look?"_

_"What do you know about microscopes?" Sherlock grouchily asked. Rolling her eyes, Jane made further notes._

_"It's not like I'm a certified doctor or anything like that. I do actually look into microscopes a good bit. Let me have a look. It's impractical to stare into a microscope to the point where you go blind."_

_Conceding, Sherlock let Jane take a look. Frowning, Jane laughed before she started refocusing._

_"Blimey, you really can't see! It's unfocused! How about this? I'll tell you what I see and you can go from there?"_

_"Fine. Do slide 1AB." Looking into it for a few minutes, Jane described it for Sherlock._

_"This looks like-"_

_"-Cyanide!" Jane and Sherlock exclaimed together._

_"But how? It's so dangerous! And this is from the lotion sample?!"_

_As Sherlock explained about quantities of cyanide and a case in 1992 which involved that poison, Jane decided. She would find him a new microscope._

She had been quite meticulous in her search for a good microscope. She had even managed to get good records on Sherlock's eyesight to assist her on the quest. And after saving and scrimping, she had managed to get one. Clearing her throat, Jane prepared to go and get his gift down the stairs.

"Oh right, I almost forgot. I have a present for you too!"

"Oh for God's sake, how many more gifts are we handing out? I'd prefer to get it tomorrow. Let's not prolong this celebration any longer today." Sherlock complained.

"Sure." Jane gave a hurt shrug but still smiled. Feeling a small bit of guilt, Sherlock didn't say anymore. A few minutes later, Jane excused herself, and Sherlock went to his room.

Reaching under his bed, Sherlock pulled out the package he had intended to give to Jane. He remembered how she had lit up talking about the book. The sentimental value behind it was deep for Jane.

_Was this really it? Sherlock hadn't known if he'd be able to find it. But lo and behold, there it was. A Tale of Two Cities. Flipping it open, Sherlock looked for the incriminating evidence that this was in fact, Jane Watson's book. Or had been, before her mother sold it. Reading the note addressed to Jane inside, Sherlock knew this was the one. After bartering and haggling for a price, Sherlock reclaimed the book._

_Smiling to himself, he tucked the book covered in brown parchment into his large pocket and went on his way. He would not give it as a Christmas present (as those were overly sentimental) but he would give it to her, at some point. Perhaps today. Noticing the crooked door knocker, Sherlock knew Jane was home. Going up the stairs and taking a look at her, Sherlock instantly knew now was probably not the opportune moment. Talking and holding hands with Sanford, Jane and her boyfriend shared a cup of tea. Recoiling, Sherlock took his scarf off and entered the room._

_"Hey Sherlock," Jane greeted him. "Kettles just boiled."_

_Mumbling a response, Sherlock went into his room. Taking out the book, Sherlock scoffed at himself. What was he doing? Why was he going to such lengths to find this book? He did not love Jane. He did not see her as more than a colleague. What then, was he doing? Proving himself capable, Sherlock decided. Furthermore, he found the book and that showed the skill and capability the detective had. Stowing the book away under the bed, he was determined that the book would never see the light of day._

He had felt that way. But whenever he thought of the book, he'd think of the way Jane looked when she talked of her book. He heard the sadness and anger when her Mother told her of selling the book. Perhaps seeing her face when he gave her the book would be worth it. Sherlock made up his mind. He would give it to her tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have a (sort of) Christmas present for you all! When I plan my stories, I sketch out my ideas to help me get a better picture of it in my head. Here's the link for my sketches.  
> http://janelockholmes.tumblr.com/


	34. Surprise, Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sherlock's birthday! And what better way to spend it than bloody puns and cheetahs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered that Sherlock's birthday was yesterday! And in just a few short hours, this came into existence. Happy Birthday Sherlock!

"It's his birthday?" Jane exclaimed, putting down her toast.

"Yes. Marie and I wanted to come up with a bit of a surprise party for him. Nothing overblown, just some cake, invite Clara and Rose, maybe Lestrade?" Mrs. Hudson said, blowing on her tea.

"Nothing ever gets past Sherlock. He'll know the _second_ you come up the stairs that you are throwing a party." Jane mentioned hesitantly.

"Why you need to go up there and get him out of the flat for a while." Mrs. Hudson suggested, patting her hand.

"You're the girlfriend, Jane, he won't suspect a thing!" Doubtful, Jane thought, sipping her tea. But we shall see just how convincing I can be.

"I'll see if I can find him a good case, if not, we'll find something else to do." Rising, Jane went up the stairs to hear the strains of the violin playing.

"Morning Sherlock!"

Continuing to play, Sherlock acknowledged her with a nod. Sitting down, Jane went on a quest on her laptop to find Sherlock a good case. It couldn't be so long that it'd last until 8:30 (that was when Mrs. Hudson wanted them home), but couldn't be so easy he would solve it in seconds.

"Listen to this one: Hello Sherlock Holmes, my name is Hannah Smith, and we live not far from Cambridge. My Dad has gone missing, along with all his things. Everything, except his favourite pair of trainers, and his briefcase. He was perfectly happy here, and I don’t understand why he should have left. Please contact us soon.”

Waiting expectantly, Jane knew it was over, when Sherlock instantly had his smug ‘aha!’ expression.

“Easy. Her father works for a tax company and has gone to Tibet for the time being. He will return in three months, no doubt with a stash of drugs.”

Eyebrows raised, Jane typed his answers in a reply email. She was not going to even ask how he came up with that answer.

"Alright, that's a ‘no’ then. What about this?"

Several later, and Jane still hadn't found one that made him want to even change out of his dressing gown. Setting her laptop down, Jane cheered silently when the fridge was near empty.

"Oi, do we have anything other than emergency baked beans?"

"You're the one staring. You tell me?"

"Fine. Let's go get some lunch then?"

"Where do you have in mind?"

Thinking for a moment, Jane replied with: "surprise me."

***

When she said surprise...this wasn't exactly what she was expecting. She was currently shifting uncomfortably as they sat in probably the dodgiest restaurant she had ever been in. There were no windows whatsoever, all of the waiters were heavily tattooed, and people kept whispering and looking at Jane and Sherlock. Looking down at her sad meal, Jane wondered if the food they were eating had fungus as the vegetables. And there Sherlock sat, eating crisps and looking cheerful as ever.

Sighing, Jane picked up a pen and a napkin.

_Who should I be looking for?_

_What do you mean?_

_There isn't any chance we're eating here if it is not for a case?_

Sliding the note over, Jane raised her eyebrows and gave a smile.

_Yes, in fact. Don't think too much over it, just enjoy your sloppy joe_

Looking down at the sad excuse of a sandwich, Jane gave a toothy fake smile at him.

"Sure."

***

Shivering, Jane glared at the closed door. Large chunks of meat hung all around, and fog and ice surrounded them in the frigid air.

"We are in a fridge. Nice." Jane said, handcuffed to Sherlock. "Somehow, this happens to us every 90 days."

"Due to your lunacy, mostly."

"Oh mostly?" At this, she had to snort. "If you didn't put us into these situations, it wouldn't be called for me to act like a lunatic."

"Nothing ever calls for you to act like a lunatic."

"You either! When I said anywhere is fine, an icebox wasn't what I had in mind!"

"Stop bickering. It's actually quite fascinating."

"What is?"

"This poaching system. Who knew so many people enjoy digesting cheetahs?"

"Beats me. Never considered it, funnily."

"Oh stop it."

"Stop what?" Jane sighed.

"Pretending you are miserable. I know you're enjoying this."

Looking around the refrigerator and meat surrounding them, creating a bloody scent, Jane felt her nose getting stuffy. Jane was not sure what part of this was even remotely an enjoyable experience. Perhaps getting out so she could bash Sherlock’s ruddy head in.

"Yep. It's the thrill of my life.”

***

"It's natural the back would be an unsanctioned butcher shop."

"And naturally, gallons of BLOOD would be on hand!" Jane gagged, covered from head to toe in blood.

"Obviously Jane. They had to do something with the excess blood so they wouldn't get enquiries." Wringing her hair out to reveal even more blood in it, Jane felt like hurling.

"Let's just....go home. I look like Carrie, and I smell like a pig.”

“Who’s Carrie?”

Sighing, Jane just kept walking.

_Get a hot bath, maybe wash down in nothing short of bleach, and then pretend tonight's events never happened._ Jane recited in her head like a sutra. Unlocking the door, Jane and Sherlock headed up the stairs.

"You take the shower first?" Jane asked.

"We could take it together."

" _Sherlock_." Jane huffed, lightly bumping him with her shoulder.

"What? It's perfectly normal, as your clothes are in need of-"

"SURPRISE!!!!"

'Jane and Sherlock both jolted as confetti and the sound of part poppers bombarded them.

"Oh the surprise party..." Jane whispered, her face in her palm. Ironically, Jane had forgotten about this event.

Lights turning on, all the five other faces melted into disgust and confusion.

"Sherlock!! The carpet!" Mrs. Hudson cried, not even sure when to begin as the crimson blood stained the carpet.

"Happy Birthday Sherlock!" Rose mentioned, her freckled nose wrinkling at the sight.

"And a happy 'bloody' new year!" Lestrade added, tossing his party popper over his shoulder.

At the pun, everyone looked over at Lestrade, Clara being the only one to dare a laugh. Putting an arm over Jane, Sherlock brushed past them into the washroom.

"Give us twenty minutes," Sherlock said, closing the door. Reopening, Jane poked her head out.

"And Mrs. Hudson, could you get us some new clothes? Thanks!" Jane forced herself to sound cheerful and reclosed the door."

Albeit it was hard to sound cheerful while she looked as if she just got into a literal bloodbath. Turning the water on to warm, Sherlock put Jane in the tub, fully clothed, and joined her. Watching the blood go in the drain, Jane got the biggest dollop of shampoo her hand could hold and smothered it into Sherlock’s hair. Doing likewise, Sherlock scrubbed Jane’s hair vigorously, his long fingers massaging her scalp.

It had grown much longer than when he’d first met her, now brushing past her shoulders and an inch or three from Jane’s elbows. Which, was unfortunate at present, as her blonde hair was soaked in blood. Fingers running down her golden strands, Sherlock curled one absentmindedly before releasing it. Squirting shampoo all over her jumper and parts of her jeans, Jane scrubbed her clothes, praying the stains would come out. At last, when the blood finally stopped, Jane shut the faucet off.

Unbuttoning his shirt, Sherlock slung it off and wrung it out as best as he could. When he started undoing his trousers, Jane flushed and stepped out.

“Ehm, you finish up. I’ll grab your clothes.”

Opening the door, Jane quickly snatched their clothes, after catching Mycroft’s disapproving gaze. Frankly, she was too tired to care, and slammed the door to show her ‘not caring’.

“Here!” Jane shouted, tossing his clothes over. A few minutes later, Sherlock stepped out, buttoning up the last of his purple shirt.

“Happy Birthday, by the way.” Jane smiled, stepping in the shower.

“Oh yeah.”

“What’s ‘oh yeah’, supposed to mean? You forgot your own birthday?”

“It’s just the day we were birthed, it isn’t much.”

“It _is_ very important!” Jane argued, slinging her wet pair of jeans and knickers on the shower rod.

“It’s when people appreciate you, and show you how much they care.”

“Please,” Sherlock huffed as he combed his hair and put mousse in it.

“Who cares?”

“I do. Why else would I even bother going into that in that cheetah slaughterhouse with you?”

“We were both forced into it.”

“…Still,” Jane laughed, as she buttoned up her plaid shirt.

“I put up with your daily shenanigans. And, believe it or not, you don’t get up on my ever-loving nerve all the time.” Stepping out of the shower, Jane towel dried her hair.

“I quite appreciate you, and I do care. A lot.”

Fingers coiling around Sherlock’s shirt, Jane pulled him down and brushed her lips against his. Hands around her waist, Sherlock leaned in and kissed her back, before pulling out and kissing her neck. Laughing breathily, Jane stepped back and kissed his cheek. Smiling back at her, Sherlock ran his hand through his hair and unlocked the door.

Sitting in Sherlock’s chair, Rose perked up when she saw them. Warily approaching them, Rose looked them up and down before giving them a hug.

“Just had to see if you were still all bloody and stuff.”

“Don’t worry, we’re clean.” Jane assured her, ruffling her hair.

Sitting in Jane’s chair, Mycroft regarded them with the arch of his brow.

"Mycroft! What are you doing here?!” Sherlock demanded, glaring.

“Just checking up on you. And Happy Birthday, Brother Mine.”

“Happy Birthday, non-accepted.”

“Sherlock! He’s your brother!” Mrs. Hudson laughed as she set out finger sandwiches.

“Be glad you have one! After all, he’s been waiting all this time to celebrate your birthday!”

“’Celebrating’ and ‘Mycroft’ aren’t usually in the same sentence, much less syllables.” Sherlock remarked, taking his seat.

“Well, we’re all happy to see you, Sherlock.” Clara smiled.

“Rose, go ahead and give it to him.” Beaming, Rose dug in her mother’s tote, and pulled out a large book.

“It’s an encyclopaedia about Insects and their different anatomies and functions.”

“You like it?” Rose anxiously asked as Sherlock flicked through the pages.

“It’s…nice.” Closing the book, Sherlock set it on the lamp stand. Winking at Rose, Lestrade silently assured her that Sherlock liked it.

“Yeah, got you somethin’ too!” Lestrade said, passing him a box.

Upon holding it, Sherlock could tell be the weight that it was a mug. Opening the box, Sherlock pulled out a mug that said: WORLD’S GREATEST DETECTIVE Laughing, Jane admired the mug.

“That’s fantastic!”

After a night of festivities, board games and tea, everyone went their separate ways. Sitting on his bed, Sherlock looked at the array of gifts he had received. He had not actually celebrated his birthday since right before University. He had always found Birthdays to be trivial and useless. But after today, he might concede.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you read anything in here and were curious if I meant it to be so punny, I did. 
> 
> ***Carrie is some horror movie made in the 1970's or 80's. Quite the movie too, I should add.


	35. Reimbursement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The struggle of warranty is real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said the short would go out yesterday...until I found an incredibly in explainable plot hole...thank you for your patience!  
> xxx

"What are you talking about?" Jane cried. "You won't reimburse the bloody fridge unless you have the specific part on your _desk_?! Look, all I know is half the fridge isn't cold, and the freezer stopped working!"

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. Either, get a repairman, or get a new fridge.”

“No, our warranty is still good! I have a piece of paper, in my hands, that says that!!”

"It says on your records that your warranty expires...today, at 11:59 tonight." The man said on the other line.

"Exactly! Tonight! It's currently 5!"

"And our office building closes at 8. Now, if you were to ensure the papers and parts that need repair were in our building by the time the warranty expires, I think we may be able to do something for you."

***

Head throbbing, Jane tried to find the next part. 7 pages done out of 25, Jane watched the clock in despair. After she'd get the paperwork done, she would then have to attempt to find the broken part and disconnect it from the fridge. Why did Sherlock have to vanish now of all times? Getting an idea, Jane pulled out her mobile.

_Sent 5:47-Vatican Cameos_

Putting her phone away, Jane hurriedly went through the paperwork. Exactly fifteen minutes later, she heard the door squeal open and the stamping of feet.

"Where's Duke??" Sherlock asked, poking his head in.

“The conman?”

“YES. If you had texted me that, I would assume-" Taking a glance at the room, Sherlock rolled his eyes. "This is it?"

When he turned to leave, Jane held her hand up.

"Do not go out that door! Unless you want to help pay for a new fridge, you will sit down and help!"

"It's easy to pay for a new fridge."

"But remember the water bill went up? We simply can't afford it this month. Now, we could use coolers for a month, but there'd be nowhere to put your experiments."

When Sherlock hesitated, Jane added for extra incentive: "If we have it on the east side of London by 11:59, we have a deal."

Sherlock sat down and grabbed a pen, firing away on the paperwork.

"First, we'll handle the papers. Then, the fridge parts." Taking out his phone, Sherlock quickly fired off a text and started scribbling out information on the paperwork.

"They close at 8, so let's try and hurry." She urged him.

"Eight O'clock..." Sherlock murmured to himself. Door opening, a new set of footsteps went up.

"Evenin' Mr. 'Olmes." Remembering Tim, Jane went back to her papers.

"Find the broken part of the fridge." Sherlock instructed, not looking up from the papers.

"Right!" Tim set to work immediately, making Jane give him a curious look.

"You know how to find broken parts?"

"A bit of a part time job you could say."

Sighing, Jane watched the teenager in mild exasperation. "You mean you steal parts?"

Smirking sheepishly, Tim unplugged the fridge to get a better look.

***

"And...Done!" Forgoing the coat, Jane burst into a sprint as she went to get a cab.

"Taxi!!" Sherlock yelled as they hurried in.

Holding one of the larger parts in her lap, Jane gave a disgruntled look at the heavy piece.

"Old fridge. High time we got a new one anyway."

"Yes..." Sherlock trailed off, looking around. Leaning forward, Sherlock suddenly yelled:

"Stop!! Just here please!!"

"Sherlock, we're not there for another fifteen!"

"Yes, but this will do. Duke is two kilometres down."

"Wait-we were dropping off fridge parts!"

"Yes, but this is more fun isn't it?"

“What about the fridge?!" Jane cried in exasperation, still lugging the heavy parts with her.

"We'll do that later. C'mon!"

Sighing, Jane half-heartedly followed. Going through a few turns, and climbing up escape stairs, Jane was panting by the time they reached the top.

"What...are we doing..?" Jane asked.

"You know what."

"No, you only _think_ I know that. I honestly have no clue what we are doing."

"Well, we both know what's going on."

"We really don't. Please...just explain. I really don't want to have to pay for a new fridge."

"About to visit a 'friend'."

"Wait, wait, and wait. Does this have something to do with Duke?”

“Partially, yes. Remember why Duke has been advantageous as of late to the underground system.”

“Mycroft said he’s looking for someone?”

“Not someone, but something.”

“And…do you happen to have this ‘something’?”

“Perhaps. Now, don't say anything, just let me do the talking.” Sherlock said, swinging open the door and let Jane lug the part in.

Going down a corridor, Jane looked around. Everything was dim, except a few orange lights strewn about. The place smelt of sweat and ozone, making Jane's nose burn.

"All of this skirting around the issue..." Sherlock crooned, his steps slow and his eyes burning. "All for one serial code number."

"Whoever has the number, has the world, Mr. Holmes."

Hearing a familiar voice, Jane watched a forty-something year old man step in the room, four armed men and women behind him.

"You're...the guy I was on the phone with."

"Duke Wellington, at your service. I knew the right motivation would bring the fridge parts into my hands. Good to know you have such a greedy little girlfriend."

All of this for a fridge..? Looking at Sherlock to explain, he sighed.

"It's not the refrigerator itself, it's what is in it. You recall the man from Cambridge?"

"Vaguely, yeah."

"A computer chip, designed to hack into top security offices. And all this time, he had planted in our fridge."

"We'd like it back now." Duke said, stepping back.

On that cue, the armed guards raised their guns. Glaring at the people, Jane raised her hands.

"I will. In exchange for this information. Where is the real Duke?"

Eyes narrowing, the man held his hand out. Stepping forward, Sherlock put the chip in his hands.

"Thank you. Since you are so smart, I am sure you can deduce where Duke truly is."

Eyes scanning over the fraud, Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Why is it everyone finds solace in Columbia? You are standing in for Wellington, until you have this chip. Then, once you have the chip in the hands of your employer..."

"Retirement, and a good education plan for my daughter."

Eyebrows raised, Jane looked at the broken pieces in her hands. If they lived through this, she was curious to see how on earth she could write this up. As soon as Sherlock had the chip removed from his hands, Sherlock looked over at Jane and shouted: "Vatican Cameos!!"

Immediately, Jane took her cue to duck as men broke down the door and barked orders at the criminals. And just like that, the fraud Duke was arrested, and the chip returned to correct hands. All in the course of twenty minutes.

"Everything all cleared up??" Jane asked for the thousandth time.

When they were finally allowed to leave, Jane checked her watch as they were leaving. Giving a moan of despair, Jane showed Sherlock her watch in frustration.

"It's already ten!! We-why??"

"We can still make it, as the warranty expires in...An hour and fifty-nine minutes. They have to give us a new refrigerator if we have it in their office by then. That's what the paperwork said."

"And you actually took the time to read it?" Following him, she got into a cab with him.

"Obviously. While I was scribbling on papers I might as well take the time to read what I'm signing." Barking off directions, Sherlock hummed under his breath, in an uncharacteristically good mood.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"How bad would you feel if you had to spend a night in jail?"

"Sorry?"

***

"So..." Trailing off, Jane stared at Sherlock, who sat opposite her in the small holding cell. Mouth turning up slightly, Sherlock could barely contain his laughter. Then, shoulders shaking, he burst into laughter, Jane joining him.

"Yeah...busted fridge, MI6, a fake Duke." Wiping her eyes, Jane wheezed.

"The guard’s face when we-" Breaking into another bout of chuckles, Sherlock clutched his sides.

"And now, we are sitting in jail. Who is going to bail us out?" Jane asked, calming down.

"Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade."

"Mycroft?" Jane mirthfully asked.

"I will decline the offer and remain in here, in that case."

"Time?" Sherlock requested.

Jane always thought he had an automatic clock, or something of the sort in his head. Sighing, she was going to check her watch, when she realised it had been taken away. Motioning at her bare wrist, Jane thought back to Duke and his henchmen.

"How did you know Duke was going to be there?"

"Hit or miss really. It started when not long after the Cambridge man arrived at our flat, did we start receiving the blog comments. A few days later, our perfectly normal fridge breaks completely. Reason? The file that Cambridge inserted. Now the name of Cambridge itself, is clear that..."

Listening, Jane smiled as Sherlock rattled off. Finishing, Jane gave an approving nod. "Fantastic job."

With an unhappy look, Sherlock arched his head and took in the cell.

"What?”

"It's...been a considerable time since I was last in prison."

"When was that?"

_His mind was so foggy. Everything seemed to blur together into one catastrophic event. Faces meshed onto other faces. When birds sang, it sounded like rain and screams. A violin...? Eyes opening, Sherlock looked up at the dark cell. Shaking and sweating, he did not like it. He did not like being alone in the cold cell. He didn't even have paper or pen for his list. This time, he was truly on his own._

"A long time ago." Sherlock muttered, his mood suddenly blackened.

"Your history?"

Looking up at her, Sherlock inhaled slowly.

"I have seen your medical records before."

The cell grew quiet. The sound of faded voices down the hall and squeals of cell doors. Scratching the back of his head, Sherlock thought of where he might begin.

"16, was...the first time."

Mouth in a straight line, Jane said nothing. Watching him, she waited for him to continue.

"I...was involved with recreational substances from the time of adolescence up to...more recent times."

Three or four times, Jane had discovered unsavoury things in the flat. And the first thing she did every time was flush it down the toilet. Growing up with Harry, she knew drugs would never be a onetime event. It would be a lifetime struggle.

"Why?"

"My mind...is like a hard drive. It's always running, thousands of things in my head, meticulously stored in my mind palace. When a drawer or to many files open in my mind palace, it is hard to replace in their respective areas. My recreational habits have been of use in temporarily relieving the disorganization and chaos of my mind."

"Tell me a bit about it. About growing up."

Talking, Sherlock felt a strange load come off of his shoulders. How he knew he was a sociopath at fourteen. His first taste of drugs was at 16, opening the endless cycle. University, he had quit for a few years. But as the graduation came, he turned back to them. He came to his own graduation high.

"And through that? Who did you even go to?"

"Mycroft insisted. Every now and again, he was there."

"And your parents?"

"Didn't like confrontation."

Angry, Jane clenched her fists. Parents were supposed to be there for children, thick and thin. And when things got rough for Sherlock, Jane had a feeling Mycroft was held responsible for Sherlock's welfare. Sherlock had been alone. Alone in that struggle, save Mycroft. Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, Jane spoke up, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

"If it ever comes to that...come to me. I want to help."

Watching the silent battle waging in Sherlock's eyes, Jane bit her lip. She was unsure if her opinion was wanted. She knew however, that her voice was needed.

"It may be a onetime fix. But what about the rest of the times? It will consume you. Will chase off people who love you. It happened to Harry...and then him and me..." Changing her mind, Jane met his eyes again. "I don't want that to happen to you either." "We'll see." Was all Sherlock could say.

To Sherlock's unspoken request, Jane managed a rueful smile.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I hardly care if you do."

"Yes, you do. You can't fool me, Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh?" His cupid bow lips curling into a smirk, Sherlock held her watch out.

"I believe I can."

***

Examining the new fridge, Jane and Sherlock exchanged a satisfactory grin. It was large, big, and worked wonderfully.

"Look, you can move the shelves to make bigger space for larger things like milk or-heads." Jane explained as they loaded in the new groceries.

"All the trouble you two went to so you could get that new fridge, it had better be a good one." Clara commented, who had bought them some groceries in celebration of their new fridge.

"Yeah! You even got arrested!" Rose exclaimed, leaning on the table.

"I wish I could get arrested."

Huffing a laugh, Jane ruffled her head.  "And what would you get arrested for?"

"Breaking in somewhere? Maybe steal something." Rose shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Jane did not understand the logic of her ten year old niece.

“What is it like in jail?” Rose asked Sherlock. Looking over at Jane who was chatting with Clara, Sherlock gave a small smile.

“Refreshing.”


	36. June 15th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Happy Anniversary"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this story has been updated!! I'm not abandoning this one, but, it has been hard to get some inspiration for the short stories. If you ever have requests, please send me some and I'll see what I can do. Love you all!

Giving a raspy cough, Sherlock woke up slowly, his eyes bleary. Sitting up, his head bumped the cardboard box. Laying back again, Sherlock wiped the sweat off his brow. Reaching into his thin coat pocket, he checked his phone to see if he had a report. It was then, the date caught his eye. The fifteenth of June. His apparent day of death. He had this date engraved in his brain. Shutting off his phone, he let his mind return to London for the first time in months. 

How different would his life be, had he defeated Moriarty, without having to do this? He would be hunched over his microscope, being bored. Mrs. Hudson would have brought up groceries, and been mildly upset of the mess. And Jane...what would she have done? Sherlock's eyes opened and he crawled out of the box. 

He didn't want to think about Jane. It hurt to much to even remember the color of her eyes, the way her laugh sounded, what she smelled like. He couldn't, wouldn't, think of Jane. If he did...if he did..thought trailing off, Sherlock walked the hot hot streets alone. 

***

"Thank you, Mrs. Goldstein. I'll see you in two weeks for a follow up."   
Once the door closed, Jane sighed and went back to her desk. Writing up notes, Jane saw the date in the corner of her eye. Three phonecalls from John, a few from Harry, several from Clara, her mother, and even one from her father of all people.

It all went ignored, as usual.

Jane wondered if her family despised her a bit for leaving England. She knew they did a bit. But, life in Dublin was fine. She saw Stella and Ted nearly everyday, she had a small flat, and no one knew who she was. Every night, she'd come home alone. No horrible experiments, no annoying midnight wake up calls. Everything was normal.  
Normal...the blood in her veins throbbing, Jane exhaled and stared out the window. Since when had her life gotten so dull...so colourless? Since June fifteenth, apparently. She really did hate this day.   
Jaw clenching, Jane shut Sherlock out of her mind. She'd done good so far, not thinking of him. Leaving London helped with that. So why now? Why did her heart clench this much just from missing a dead man? 

Packing up her briefcase and clocking out, Jane returned to her small flat. Kicking off her shoes at the door, Jane poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the kitchen chair, alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The length is abysmally short, but I think it speaks for itself a bit. :,(   
> ***And the fact that this was not published on June 15th...


	37. 221Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane decides to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great news!! Progress on the Empty Hearse has been wonderful! Hopefully, I'll have a first chapter out within a few weeks! (Hopefully). I'm going to try and post a few more shorts about the two year gap. Some will be from Jane's perspective, others from Sherlock's.   
> I'm really excited to post the next story, and I have huge plans!

Her fist went to the door, then her fist lowered. Losing her nerve, Jane walked down the two steps of the door and went down the block, before returning to the door. 

"Oh, hang it." Jane growled, before rapping on the door and waited uneasily.

The door squealed open to show Mrs. Hudson staring at Jane with wide eyes. 

"Jane..." Mrs. Hudson gasped, opening the door a little wider. 

"He...hello." She greeted Mrs. Hudson nervously.

"Come in...come in..." Mrs. Hudson ushered her in awkwardly.

Taking her to the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson angrily began to make tea. Sitting down at the table, Jane cracked her knuckles and sat up straight.   
"Oh...that's right. You don't take tea anymore, do you??" She asked Jane, slamming down a cup of coffee and biscuits at Jane.

"Sorry...I don't. Thanks for the coffee."  
Sitting opposite Jane, she sipped the black coffee. Shifting in her seat, she felt like a primary student being scolded by their mum.   
"Why are you here?"  
"Well...um...I'm coming back...here. I've been in Dublin for a while. So, if I could, if there aren't any tenants with you..."  
"...Could you come back?" Mrs. Hudson asked coldly.

"Yeh."  
Looking into Jane's sorrowful eyes, Mrs. Hudson observed the woman. She had lost weight, had become pale. Her eyes were the saddest feature. Dark circles, and little to no spark in her eyes. What a sad and lonely creature Jane was. Her angry heart gave way to sympathy and she sighed tiredly.  
"I'm not your mother Jane. But...one phone call! Was that to much to ask?? It's been a year! I was so worried about you!"  
"I'm sorry. I needed time to think about things...I needed to move on. And, I feel I'm ready to come back."  
"After all we had gone through together!!" Mrs. Hudson cried.

"I know. And really, I am truly sorry for all the pain I've caused you. That wasn't right of me." Jane apologised.  
Features softening, Mrs. Hudson patted her hand.  
"It's alright Jane...it's alright."

Standing, Mrs. Hudson led Jane upstairs.  
"I never could bear letting the flat out for rent...couldn't even move anything in here."  
"Mrs. Hudson...what about the cost of living?"  
"You think I have tenants because I need money?" Mrs. Hudson chuckled. "Oh, you and Sherlock would've been turned out with all the repair bills we got a month."   
Opening the curtains, Mrs. Hudson coughed as hoards of dust rose all over. Looking around, Jane felt at home in a way. She didn't feel nearly as sad as she thought she might. In fact, it looked like a place Jane could live in again.

Looking over at the empty music stand, Jane felt her heart clench and looked away from it quickly. She would move it to the attic, far out of her sight.

"Will you take the flat then?" Mrs. Hudson asked.  
"Yes...I will." Jane said, looking around.

It looked like she had returned once more to Baker Street. 


	38. Rubbing Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belarus and a bottle of cheap whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, another small drabble. I found this in my notebook, and actually didn't really intend on posting this one. But, as always I thank you all for your patience and you can expect the next installment shortly!!

   "The credit my friend, goes to you!" The politician cried.

   Slowing, Sherlock faced him and sneered at the thought.

   "And talk to people? Really, how dull." 

   "But..." Hesitating, the man looked back at the press conference ongoing behind the closed doors. "To take credit that I do not deserve, is just..."  
   "I will leave that to you and your conscience. Enjoy the victory." 

    Leaving, Sherlock checked his phone. Good, a connection in Belarus. He knew that eventually they would tire out of waiting for Sherlock and bleed out of the shadows. But...it was already so late, and Belarus would (hopefully) still exist tomorrow. For once in his life, Sherlock wanted sleep. 

    Entering a tiny hostel, Sherlock took a bottle of cheap whiskey out of his bag. Taking a sip, Sherlock's nose turned up at it. It really was reminiscent of rubbing alcohol. But he needed this tonight...something to forget this stressful ordeal.

Sighing, Sherlock took his shoes off and sat on the bed. Belarus...not a place he looked forward to much. But, these days nowhere was really very anticipated, only dreaded. Taking another swig, Sherlock was frustrated that it didn't seem to have any effect, save these maudlin thoughts. Finishing the bottle, Sherlock's head buzzed and he felt sluggish. Looking at his phone, he groaned when he saw his flight left in the early hours the next day. 

_"You should probably just get some sleep. I did warn you that someday you'd catch up with the rest of us and get tired."_  
    "What kind of a doctor are you?" Sherlock muttered grouchily. _  
"A pretty good one, I must say. I didn't spend three years in Afghanistan just playing cards."_

    "Piss off."  At the most inconvenient times, he caught himself thinking about Jane. What she might say, what she might do...what she could possibly be doing right now? Sleeping, hopefully. Staring at the ceiling, Sherlock asked himself the same question he asked every night:  
Why was he doing this? It sometimes felt like Moriarty's network would never get dismantled. Every time he shut down one place, another link would pop up. He had been to Germany three times now, for God's sake. 

And then, the same question was always answered with: You do it, because you have to. Sometimes, Sherlock wished there was a different answer. Turning off the lights, Sherlock closed his eyes, sleep hitting him immediately. 

      Bright and early, Sherlock slipped into a bathroom to prepare his next disguise and change of clothes. The beard, as well as the ratty seaweed green jumper kept him looking poor enough to scope the slums of Belarus. If Jane was without complete fashion sense, she'd probably wear this. Chuckling at the thought, Sherlock trimmed his beard a bit and trimmed off some of the hair that grew over his eyes. 520 days. How much a person could change in the course of that time. 

Checking the time, Sherlock gave a tired sigh as he grabbed his backpack and went out the door. Time to go and save the world again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Anyone have suggestions on what the next installment should be called?? Suggestions would be lovely!   
> xxx


	39. A Happy New Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane is invited to a party

The moment Jane stepped in, she knew she had made a ghastly mistake. The room fell to murmurs. People eyed her out of the corner of their eyes. Noticing Jane at the door, Lestrade hurriedly made his way to her.

"You came!"

Managing a smile, Jane held a bag out. "For you. Thanks for the invite."

"Anytime for an old-" Lestrade corrected himself. "-anytime for a friend. Come in, get a drink!"

Nodding, Jane quietly walked in. She noticed the majority of the people refused to meet her gaze. Sally altogether turned her back, pretending Jane wasn't there. Seeing Jane, Molly walked over and started a conversation.

"So, where have you been lately?" Molly asked, leaning against the wall.

"Dublin. I...needed to leave London for a bit."

"Find a flat there?"

"No...I stayed with some friends. Worked at a clinic up there."

"Are..." Molly hesitated, wondering if she should finish the question.

"Am I?"

"Staying...where you used to stay?"

"Yeah, I moved back in a few weeks ago. It's nice." 

When someone called Molly over, she flashed Jane a kindly smile and left. Backing further against the wall, Jane felt a lump grow in her throat. She wanted to disappear so badly. No one wanted her there. Just being there killed the light hearted atmosphere. It was only 9 at night. She couldn't last three more hours of this torture.

Backing away, Jane snuck to the coat rack and took her jacket. As she reached for the door, she heard Lestrade.

"Where are you going?"

Looking back at him, Jane managed a smile.

"Headache. I-guess I'm getting a bit old for New Year celebrations."

"To old? You're barely in your thirties! Jane, if this about some of the guys and how they're treating you, I could, y'know, talk with them."

That was the last thing Jane wanted. To stir up unnecessary problems and make things ten times more awkward.

"No. I really have to go. Thanks Lestrade, really. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." Lestrade resignedly said, opening the door for her.

Walking out, Jane smiled until the door closed. On the tube ride home, Jane let her mind drift. Why did she even agree to go to that? Jane knew she wouldn't belong there anymore, and yet, she still went?

Getting out, Jane finally arrived to her small hotel room. Putting her shoes by the door, Jane sat on her bed and stared off into space. She remembered that one New Years where Sherlock had promised them a better celebration.

"Yeah..." Huffing a laugh, Jane pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "...liar."

She shouldn't have come. Memories of Sherlock came back in droves. Taking a swig, Jane closed her eyes. She really had moved on. Got on with her life, found new things to replace Sherlock. But there were inevitably nights like this. Nights where she felt alone, lost, helpless. Nights where her thoughts of Sherlock would not just disappear like a vapor.

 


	40. Shoebox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade brings a shoe box filled with memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great news! The first chapter of my next story is coming out tomorrow!! I am really excited, and I think you guys will all love it!

"Lestrade??" Seeing the man stand there on the pavement, Jane smiled and opened the door a bit wider. "Hi, how are you?"  
"Good...good. It's been a long time." He greeted her, holding a shoebox.

"Why don't you come in for a bit?" Jane invited him.

"Don't mind if I do. How you been lately?"  
"Good, very good, thanks."

"Haven't seen you since...New Years?"  
"Yeah." Jane recalled the painful memory with a slight cringe.

"So, what brings you here?" Jane asked, once they reached the flat.  
"Thought I'd drop by, see how you're doing."  
"You really didn't have to."  
"I wanted to, really!"   
"How's work been?" Jane asked.  
"Good. We've been loads busy lately. You?"  
"Just working at the clinic six blocks down. It's been fine, pays well."

After small talk for a few minutes, Lestrade prepared to make his departure. When Jane looked inquiringly at the box, he picked it up again. 

"Oh, also..." Lestrade handed her a shoebox.

"Just full of stuff that was Sherlock's."

Looking through it, Jane swallowed. Pink phone, ticket stubs, small things like that. Reaching in, Lestrade pulled out a CD.

"Remember the birthday message Sherlock gave you?" 

She had found it extremely odd that he had done that. Nodding, Jane examined the CD.  
"Well, this is the uncut version. Pretty funny."  
Nodding, Jane fiddled with it. She honestly couldn't say she was pleased that she had gotten this.

"On second thought, maybe I shouldn't have brought it. A bit silly of me."  
"No, it wasn't silly. Thanks." When Lestrade looked hesitant, Jane forced a laugh. "Really, thanks. Probably won't even watch it really."  
So she had said. But the more it sat in front of her, the more Jane wanted to watch it. She had done her best for two years to not see a thing that'd make her think of Sherlock. Now she was watching a tape? Deciding to get it over with, Jane popped it in and got herself a small glass of whiskey. 

Sitting down, Jane instantly regretted her decision.   
 _"Ehm, okay, uh..."_  Sherlock trailed off and looked into the camera. " _So-why am I doing this again?"_  
 _"You're gonna miss the dinner._ " Off-screen Lestrade flatly said.   
 _"Of course I'm going to miss the dinner, there's going to be people! Why is Jane even having a birthday dinner, the majority of those who know Jane, hates her."_  
Ah yes. Another low reminder of just how rude Sherlock could be.  
 _"I wrote an essay about suppressed hatred based entirely on Jane's friends."_  
She remembered receiving that endearing essay. The look of sheer panic on Sherlock's face when Clara and Mrs.Hudson commented on the essay was probably the highlight of that day.

_"...On closer thought, it most likely wasn't the best choice of presents."_

Giving a rueful smile, Jane shook her head. So he had been in fact, a little guilty over it. 

_"My excuse was..?"_

_"You said you had a 'thing'"_

_"Oh right, yes."_

_"Well...you going to elaborate on that?"_

_"Hm? No, no, only lies have detail in them."_

As he looked into the camera, Jane's eyes flickered a bit at the memories. The time where they would stare into each other's eyes, or how he'd look around excitedly as he put things together. But not anymore...not anymore.  
 _"Sorry...I just need a moment to think of what I'm going to do."_  
"I can tell you what you can do." Jane scoffed, sipping her drink. "Stop being dead, maybe?"  
 _"Okay."_  Came the reply almost immediately.  
Heart jumping, Jane looked back at the screen.  
 _"Okay, I'm ready now._ "

Sitting in his chair, he looked at the camera and donned an impossibly fake smile.  
 _"Hello Jane. I'm...sorry that I can't be with you presently, I am quite busy. But many happy returns and all that cheer. And don't worry, I'll be with you again very soon."_  He promised.  
Giving a sad smile, Jane turned off the Telly. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her laptop and logged into her blog. 

_Greg came round today. He had a load of stuff that had belonged to Sherlock. Nothing that even gets close to showing who or what he was. Items can't do that. Not physical items anyway. We've all got belongings and photos and furniture and books and... they're not who we are. They're just things we've accumulated over the years. They mean nothing._

_But then there was this DVD. It was a video of Sherlock recording a message for my birthday dinner. A bunch of us went to this restaurant in Soho. It was great, actually. Everyone was there. Mike, Harry, Clara, Rose, Mrs. Hudson, and others. All except Sherlock. He didn't come because he was 'busy'. He wasn't busy, he just... sometimes he struggled to fit in. He couldn't switch off, couldn't relax. He just struggled with people, I think. Yet the video... it showed the other side to him. He was rude, yeah. Arrogant. But I'd forgotten just how funny he could be. He was so charming. So... so very human. It's bizarre because most people would say he was the most inhuman person they'd ever met. But the thing is, he wasn't.  He was everything a good person ought to be. He'd just often say what he was thinking rather than lying to protect our feelings. Maybe we should all be more like that? Maybe we should all be more honest? Although maybe it was a good thing he didn't come to that birthday dinner, what with my Mum being there ;)_

_And now it's time for me to be honest. I'm meant to be keeping this blog to remind me of the good times. I know it's meant to be healthy but what's the point? I need to properly move on. I need to put it all behind me and move on. I'm so tired of deleting comments from people who don't believe me, people who think all this is a lie. I know it was real. There are so many people out there who know that all this was real. They believed in Sherlock, still do, even._

_So this'll be my last blog._

_Sherlock, wherever you are,_

_Cheers_

_Jane_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the inspiration for this short!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwntNANJCOE

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Story time: Once I was cruising for some stories to read, and I found something similar. I read the whole thing, and was pretty confused. I then found out that it was actually part of a series (A really good one at that!). If you haven't read my other stories, I would suggest it, just in case it's a bit confusing to follow.


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